


Freelance Good Guys: Allmother's Gift

by TheGreys (alienjpeg)



Series: Looming Gaia [38]
Category: Looming Gaia
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Disabled Character, Drama, Fantasy, Fat Shaming, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Therapy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjpeg/pseuds/TheGreys
Summary: After two decades away from home, Balthazaar decides to reunite with his family. Nothing goes according to plan, and now he must seek the infamous Allmother, Divine of Maternity, to uncover a dark family secret.
Series: Looming Gaia [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/833844
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Ankle Biter

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Looming Gaia series. I recommend that you read the previous stories in the series first, or this one won’t make a lot of sense. For concept art, discussions, memes, and more, check out the blog: https://loominggaia.tumblr.com/post/175087795478/looming-gaia-masterpost
> 
> As always, please heed the tags for content warnings. Child abuse is a major theme of this story. Nothing is described in graphic detail, but if you’re sensitive to this kind of content, you should proceed with caution.

**[CHAPTER 1: ANKLE BITER]**

_LATE SUMMER, 6008_

Evan woke up with a start. Someone was pounding on his front door. He fumbled around for his prosthetic leg in the darkness, calling groggily, “I’ll be there in a minute!”

Two glowing red eyes appeared before him. He blinked and saw Zeffer’s silhouette crouching by his bedroll, offering his leg. “Thanks, Zef,” the captain sighed and slipped it on. He pulled on a robe before he and Zeffer made their way to the door together. Zeffer swiped a dagger on the way and kept it concealed behind his back. He hid himself against the wall as Evan opened the door, ready to strike the second things went sour.

But it was only Javaan, standing there with a scowl on his face and Balthazaar slumped over his back. He tilted his hindquarters and Balthazaar slid off, hitting the ground with a grunt. “He’s done it again, Captain!” exclaimed Javaan. “We were supposed to leave for that job in North Haze this morning, but this drunken oaf is too sloshed to stand! This is the third time I’ve lost out on a contract because of his nonsense! I’ve had it!”

Evan raised his palms to calm him, trying to puzzle the words together in his sleepy head. He looked down at Balthazaar, muttering and writhing on his doorstep. Javaan was already armored up and ready to go, but Balthazaar was still dressed down in his underclothes. He’d probably been drinking all night, by the look of it.

Scrubbing at his face, Evan mumbled, “I’m sorry, Javaan. Don’t cancel the contract. Ask Glenvar if he’ll go with you and I’ll sort the paperwork later.”

“Glenvar? Are you kidding me? He’s a drunk too!” wailed Javaan, stamping his hoof in frustration.

But Evan assured him, “Yes, he is, but never chooses his habit over a job. Besides, he has that fire-stone in his chest. He’s perfectly cut out for a place like North Haze.”

Javaan reluctantly accepted and walked away grumbling, leaving Balthazaar lying on Evan’s porch. Zeffer peeked through the doorway, concealing his vampirism under his guise, and queried, “What’s wrong with him?”

“His wife passed recently,” Evan whispered back. “He, uh…hasn’t been handling it well. Come on, help me bring him inside.”

Together, the two dragged the weighty man into the sitting room and propped him up in a chair. Balthazaar slumped over its arm and began to cry. Evan briefly disappeared into the kitchen, then returned with a glass of water and a plate of crackers, setting them both on the side table near the chair.

“You’ve got to pull yourself together, Balthazaar,” he said. “You can’t keep missing work like this. Your crewmen are depending on you!”

Balthazaar swiped the glass of water, spilling some on himself in the process. He chugged the whole thing down, then dropped the glass on the floor and sobbed, “She’s haunting me, Captain!”

Evan quirked an eyebrow. “Who?” he asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Just as he suspected, Balthazaar wailed, “Feredil! I dreamed about her again! Every time it’s like a punch in the throat, I can’t take it no more! Why, why? Why won’t she leave me alone?”

The lines in Zeffer’s face deepened as he watched the burly old mercenary cry. It hurt his heart, but he did not know what to do, so he looked at Evan and silently begged him to help the man.

Evan stepped forward and placed a hand on Balthazaar’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Losing someone you love is a pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But you have to stay strong, my friend. Feredil would be crushed if she knew her memory was causing you all this torment! You have to come to terms with this and move on, for her sake _and_ yours.”

Shrugging off his hand, Balthazaar spat, “She’d be crushed, my ass! She’s punishing me, Evan! I was a terrible husband to her! Lazy, unfaithful, not worth a dead dog’s last piss…!”

“Stop that. We’ve been over this many times,” Evan interrupted sharply. “You did the best under the circumstances you were given, and you certainly can’t change the past. But the future is still in your hands, so what will it be? Are you going to keep falling off the wagon? Or are you going to clean yourself up and be a better man?”

Balthazaar groaned, “What’s the point anymore? I got no one to be better for. No wife, no parents, no brothers! I threw that all away when I punched that Matuzan officer in the head! I was a failure then and I’m a failure now! You may as well fire me; I’ll just keep letting you down…”

“You’re letting yourself down the most,” mentioned Zeffer. Balthazaar ignored him and buried his sweaty face in his equally sweaty hands.

After a long moment of deliberation, Evan began, “I wish you cared about yourself even half as much as you care for others. But if that’s the way it is, then I think you have no choice but to reconnect with your family.”

Balthazaar shot him in a strange look and blurted, “Well, that ain’t gonna happen! I pissed off the entire Matuzan Guard, from Gawe to Zhoulcha! I ain’t welcome in orange country no more.”

“That’s exactly what I thought when I fled Evangeline Kingdom,” said Evan. “But you know what? I went back and I wasn’t hassled once. The guard has a shorter memory than you think. I’ve spent a lot of time in Matuzu land over the years, rubbing elbows with royalty. And trust me, their military is too busy juggling two wars to concern themselves with a rogue soldier. Whatever you did, it was twenty years in the past.”

Balthazaar said nothing, but he seemed to be considering it. He cradled his chin in his hands, stroking his beard in thought. He mumbled something incoherent, then Zeffer added, “The Matuzan military is a meat-grinder. The orange folk are always at war with someone over something. Chances are, whoever you crossed decades ago isn’t alive today. You can cry in prison or on your captain’s floor—you’ll be miserable either way. I’d take the risk if I were you.”

Burying his eyes in his palm, Balthazaar began to weep again. “I’ve really got nothin’ to lose, do I?”

“Regardless, you’re not going alone,” Evan told him. “I’m sending you with someone who knows Matuzu Kingdom like the back of his hand. If you get into trouble down there, he can get you out.”

*

Lukas knew his shift was over when he heard the early birds begin to chirp. The sun was just starting to rise and his duties as watchman were over. Gods knew his insomnia would never let him sleep, so he retired to his tent to write instead. He scrawled poetry in his sketchpad by the flickering light of a candle.

The candle filled the tent with the soothing aroma of lavender and beeswax. Lukas breathed deep and tried to relax his muscles. Despite his efforts, he felt like he was always hitting a wall. There were knots in his back that just wouldn’t loosen, muscles in his abdomen that had been clenched since he was a boy. Even Evan’s big, mighty hands couldn’t massage the tension out of his shoulders.

Lukas was well past his prime. He couldn’t live this way anymore, fueling himself on coffee twenty-four hours a day while snapping at his friends and wishing he was dead. It took a brush with Morganya, the Divine of Tears, to show him just how bad things had gotten over the years.

He and Evan discussed the matter at length many times since then. They searched all of Gaia in their travels, and just when Lukas was starting to give up hope, they finally found a head-doctor who could meet his needs. The Freelance Good Guys ran a few unscrupulous jobs for the doctor, and in return, she agreed to help the crew’s commander with his troubles. She started by mailing him a package.

Today, the package arrived.

“Lukas? Hey, you awake in there?” called a voice from outside. Lukas set his sketchbook aside and peeked out of his tent. Linde stood before him with a box in her hands, all wrapped in brown paper. She handed it to him and said, “You had a box at the Woodborne post. Says it’s all the way from Matuzu Kingdom! Something from your brother, maybe?”

Lukas turned it over, inspecting the label. It was not from Uekoro, but from Morsereg, another Matuzan city on the eastern coast. “None of your business,” he mumbled, then disappeared back into his tent. He heard Linde grumble something about him being rude as her footsteps faded away.

His stomach turned with remorse every time he made some snide remark to his crewmates, brushed them off and treated them poorly, yet he still couldn’t stop himself. His tongue struck like a viper, lightning-quick and venomous, just like his wicked mother. Perhaps now, with this gift from Morsereg, he could finally learn how to tame the beast.

Pulling a knife off his belt, Lukas cut open the package and reached inside. He pulled out four objects: an envelope, a silk cloth, a wooden ring, and a crystal orb about the size of an apple. He opened the envelope and read the letter inside.

“ _Lukas Fanaka,_

_It was a pleasure meeting with you in person. Though we cannot enjoy meeting regularly face-to-face, I have enclosed a tool that will allow us an even deeper connection. The crystal ball goes by many names, but for the sake of simplicity, let’s just call it the ‘orb. In short, it extends the reach of my telepathic abilities, allowing my powers to reach you even across Gaia!_

_If you’re concerned about privacy, fear not. The orb is like an eye: it can only see when it’s open. So long as it’s covered by the cloth, I cannot see you or reach your thoughts. I take patient confidentiality very seriously. Whatever we talk about, I shall not repeat to anyone else._

_Please contact me as soon as you receive your package and we will discuss the details. To begin a connection, just place the orb atop the ring, then stare into it and say the magic words, ‘Summon Dr. Jan’. I look forward to meeting with you again. Take care, Mr. Fanaka_.

- _Dr. Jan, MMT_ ”

Lukas set the letter aside and did just as it said, placing the orb atop the ring on the floor. He sat cross-legged in front of it, feeling rather awkward when he spoke to the silence, “Um…Summon Dr. Jan?”

A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Just as he opened his mouth to try again, the white orb swirled with a wash of color. A brown, goblin face began to take shape, sharpening into focus, and then he was looking directly at Dr. Jan herself.

“Doctor?” he queried, squinting at the image.

“Yes, hello! It’s me!” she replied. After a yawn, she added, “Either we’re in different timezones, or you’re up earlier than the sun, Mr. Fanaka.”

“I don’t really sleep,” he mumbled. “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. What’s the soonest appointment you have?”

Dr. Jan leaned closer, her face expanding to fill the ball. Her yellow eyes shifted up and down as she looked Lukas over. She said, “Hmm. You don’t look well at all. Your will is hanging on by a thread, I can see it in your eyes. How about we just start now?”

“Are you sure you have time?” Lukas asked.

The goblin just laughed, “Of course I do! It may not look like it, but I’m actually brushing my teeth as we speak. Our connection is purely telepathic. That means no one but you can hear what I’m saying, for I’m not speaking at all. I am transmitting my thoughts directly into your mind.”

“What?” Lukas recoiled slightly, taken by surprise. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet.

Dr. Jan assured him, “Oh, yes! Telepathy is a very advanced magic, but don’t let it scare you. I’m not interested in controlling your thoughts. Think of me like a passive observer. I’m here to analyze your memories and thinking patterns, and then we can really get to the bottom of what’s troubling you. I will not do any of this without your permission, of course. So, Mr. Fanaka, may I take a peek inside your brain?”

Lukas didn’t answer right away. He hesitated for a long moment, thinking it over. He realized she could probably hear his inner conflict and decided to give in. “I guess, if it’s really necessary,” he sighed.

Dr. Jan smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

She opened her mouth to continue, but Lukas cut her off and blurted, “Hey, uh, if you happen to find anything…let’s say, _criminal_ in nature…you won’t have me arrested, will you?”

The doctor chuckled, “I’ve been doing this for almost a century, and I assure you there’s nothing I haven’t seen. I’m a therapist, not an officer. If you want me to start writing up reports to the guard, I’ll have to charge you extra.”

Lukas nodded, satisfied by her answer. “Got it,” he said quietly. “So, where do we begin?”

“Well, when did your troubles begin?”

Lukas almost laughed, “Lady, I’ve been troubled since the day I was born. I can’t remember a time when I was ‘normal’.”

“In that case, I think we should start at the very beginning. What is your earliest memory? No need to tell me; just recall it to the best of your ability and I’ll observe for myself.”

Lukas fell silent in thought. He closed his eyes and picked his brain for childhood memories. He recalled learning to spell his name in _Galsungi_ when he was six years old. He recalled seeing a live elephant for the first time when he was five. But no, there was an even older memory hiding in the very back of his conscious, concealing itself in the darkness. Lukas probed deeper, and then he recalled his very first memory like it was yesterday.

He must have been three years old, wandering the labyrinthian halls of his family’s palace. The palace was like a great beast that swallowed him whole, and now he was winding his way through its endless intestines, which only seemed to twist into themselves and lead him in circles.

Where was Jelani? Where were his mother and father? Lukas began to cry, struggling to navigate even more through his tears. He passed slaves scrubbing the floors, but they paid him no mind and he was not allowed to talk to them. His hands were dirty from playing outside. He accidentally smeared some dirt on his face when he wiped his tears away, and then he left a handprint on a door when he pushed it open.

He gasped. At last, he’d found his mother! Moswen was fussing with her hair in front of a mirror when Lukas bounded towards her. He clung to her long dress and cried, “Mommy, mommy! I was playing with Jelani and I got lost! I’m scared, mommy!”

Moswen looked down at him, eyes wide with fury. She jerked her dress from his hands and gasped, “Lukas! I have a conference with High King Yazid in a half-hour and look what you’ve done!” She gestured to the dirt he’d smeared on the pale fabric, then stamped her foot with a furious growl and kicked him away.

Lukas saw stars when her pointed heel collided with his chest. He fell on his back, shielding his face as she loomed over him like a stormcloud. She gestured her hands wildly and screeched, “You’ve ruined me, you little wretch! You’ve embarrassed all of Uekoro with your foolishness!”

Quick as a flash, she swiped something off of a nearby table and began to beat the boy with it. Lukas writhed and screamed, and in his terror, he could not recall what it was. Perhaps one of the folding fans that all Matuzan women carried on balmy days, but in the hands of Moswen, it may as well have been a steel club. The memory trailed off there.

Lukas opened his eyes, pressing his lips together tightly. Every muscle in his body pulled tighter. “Hmm. That is troubling indeed,” observed Dr. Jan. “How was your relationship with your mother?”

Lukas sighed, “It only got worse from there. She’s dead now, and I still don’t hate the bitch any less…”

The doctor made a quiet noise of acknowledgement. She remained silent, leaving space for Lukas to speak further, so he did. “She was a snake,” he continued, scowling in disgust. “The way she treated my brother and I, there was no excuse. I got the worst of it, being heir to the throne and all. She’d scream at me, call me names, beat me nearly to death…And you know what? Nobody believed me. When I told the guard she whipped me, the officers would whip me again for speaking ill of her. She was the epitome of two-faced. Everyone else knew her as a kind, benevolent queen because that’s what she wanted them to see…”

He shook his head, scowl deepening. “…But she wasn’t. She was a slave-beating, child-mangling, monster of a woman. She’d make a big show of donating food to the poor while she starved her own slaves. She’d visit sick children in the hospital, then come home and pummel her own. The woman had no heart. And the worst part—the very worst part of it all—is that I share her blood. No matter what I do, Moswen Fanaka will always be part of me, and it makes me sick every time I hear her voice crawl out of my mouth!”

Dr. Jan cocked her head. “Oh? How do you mean?” she queried.

Lukas explained, “I’m just as wretched as she is, doc! It’s like her ghost possesses me, and I don’t realize what’s happening until the damage is done! I’m a mean, abrasive person. I’m aware of that. But for some reason, the people I treat the worst are also the ones I love the most. I-I don’t _mean_ to treat them so badly, I just…”

He shook his head again, gathering his words. “It’s like the closer people get to me, the harder I push them away. I’m on thin ice with my brother, my crew barely tolerates me, and love is something I gave up on long ago. I can’t help it. I start to panic, and then I get nasty just like my horrible mother.”

Dr. Jan rubbed at her pointed chin, nodding slowly. “I see,” she mumbled. “This is a defensive behavior. A way to protect yourself, yes? But from what? Surely not love and happiness. All behavior is learned from somewhere, Mr. Fanaka. At some point in your life, it seems you’ve learned that intimacy is something to be feared.”

“I didn’t used to be like this,” he told her. “I can tell you exactly what made me this way.”

“Why don’t you show me instead?” suggested the doctor. Lukas took a deep breath, scrubbing at his eyes. He did not want to go there. He did not want to relive it. But he also didn’t want to continue living in misery, so he supposed he had no choice. He closed his eyes and recalled the memory.

He remembered the dry heat of the Midland Savannah. The smell of smoke and blood was thick in the air as a fierce battle raged around him. Uekoran soldiers clashed with Kaconenan warriors, and he and Itanya were caught in the middle of it all.

All he wanted to do was find her and flee, leave this awful land behind and start a new life with her abroad. They could have been so happy together. Instead, he watched in horror as his own arrow plunged into her throat. He ran to her aid, but it was much too late. Itanya gave him the key to her slave irons just before the life faded from her eyes. It still dangled from his neck by a leather cord today, feeling like a shackle in itself, tethering him to his own burdensome guilt.

Lukas reached up and clutched the key through his shirt. His hand was trembling, sweat soaking through the cotton fabric. Tears were burning his eyes. He opened them with a sharp breath and turned away from the orb.

“I can’t,” he said breathlessly.

Dr. Jan spoke softly assuring him, “It’s alright. Just breathe deeply, let the oxygen cool your emotions. You are in a safe place.”

Lukas shook his head choking back tears when he croaked, “I don’t deserve to be! I should have bled to death in that godforsaken desert, not her!”

The doctor hushed him. She paused, letting him gather his composure before she added, “That elven girl must have been very important to you.”

“Itanya was everything to me,” he replied quickly. “She was the only thing that made my miserable life worth living!”

“And yet you persist,” grinned Dr. Jan, steepling her knobby fingers under her chin.

Lukas took another deep breath and sighed, “Barely. I don’t know what keeps me clinging on like this. I guess I’m just waiting for something to change, but it never does. Look at me, I’m in my forties now! Still bitching and whining about things that happened decades ago! _Decades_! Gods, what’s wrong with me?”

“There is no need to judge yourself,” the doctor advised. “How can you overcome your pain when no one has taught you how? Clearly your parents were not fit for the task, but that is why I’m speaking to you now. Forties—bah! You’re a child in the eyes of the cosmos! It’s never too late to conquer your demons.”

“I...I don’t know if I can do this,” admitted Lukas, wiping the sweat off his brow.

Dr. Jan shrugged and said, “Well, if you would like to discontinue our therapy, all you must do is destroy the orb and our connection will be severed. But I would strongly advise against it, because though your heart is weary, it is clear to me that you have a fighting spirit under all the gloom. If you didn’t, you would not be here today. Do you want to be at peace with yourself?”

“Of course. More than anything,” replied Lukas.

She slammed her fist on the table before her and continued, “Then by the gods, you will have peace! It will take time and it will not be easy. It may just be the most arduous trial of your life. But I promise you success, so long as you do not give up on yourself.”

Lukas wasn’t so convinced. Inner peace sounded so farfetched, something only spoken about by monks but never actually achieved by anyone. How could he be at peace with himself after what he’d done to the person he loved most?

“You should be proud. You’ve done very well today,” Dr. Jan continued. “Your courage and honesty will see you through this trial. I see your heart is already aching, so perhaps you should rest and we will speak again another time. Let’s say…a week from now?”

Lukas hesitated. Could he really handle more of this? “I guess,” he muttered.

“Of course, don’t hesitate to summon me if you find yourself in a crisis,” the doctor added quickly. She tapped the side of her conical head. “I can answer any time, anywhere.”

Lukas thanked her for her help, and then her projection faded from the orb. Just as he covered it with the cloth, someone tapped on the side of his tent. He rolled his eyes and groaned, “What now, Linde?”

“Er, it’s actually me,” Evan’s voice replied. “Can you spare a moment? It’s very important.”

Curious, Lukas crawled out of the tent and stood up, facing his captain. It was still quite early. Evan was dressed down in his pajamas with a coat pulled hastily over his shoulders. He began, “Balthazaar fell off the wagon again last night. He’s in a bad way and he really needs some support, so I told him I’d buy him a ticket to Rodanga to visit his family…”

Lukas was already dragging a palm down his face, knowing whatever came out of Evan’s mouth next was going to be a bad idea. Evan noticed his reaction and sighed, “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s going to be fine! There’s no way the Matuzan Guard will remember his face, not with that crazy beard of his and all the weight he’s put on over the years. Still, I don’t feel good about sending him alone. So I was just wondering—”

“You’re asking me to babysit, aren’t you?” Lukas interrupted flatly.

Evan offered a strained smile. “Would you?”

Lukas paused to think it over. Evan could tell by the look on his face that he was teetering precariously close to a ‘no’.

“Lukas, please!” he pleaded “I don’t know what else to do! The village is nowhere near finished, the nymphs are breathing down my neck, and Disgrace is due for an attack soon! We can’t have any of our crewmen falling apart right now, we need everyone on board for the fight! No one’s more familiar with the Midlands than you are. I’ll even cover your expenses! Just do this one simple thing for me, will you?”

Lukas planted his hands on his hips, letting out a long-suffering growl. “I’m kind of in the middle of something,” he snapped. “This was supposed to be my day off!”

“Lukas…” Evan said quietly. He dropped his brows, throwing a pathetic, pleading sort of look at the archer. He needn’t say more. That look was always enough, loathed as Lukas was to admit it.

“You bastard,” Lukas sighed. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as possible. This shouldn’t take more than a week, at most. Just get Balthazaar back in touch with his family and show him he still has roots out there,” answered Evan. He smiled and threw his arms around Lukas, trapping him in a tight squeeze. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you!”

The hug pained Lukas. For one, Evan didn’t know his own strength. But aside from that, Lukas wanted nothing more than to hug him back just as tight, kiss his face and shower him with love, yet his old fears kept his arms frozen at his sides. He shrugged his friend off and muttered, “Whatever. I’m only doing this so we’ll have a fighting chance against Disgrace. I don’t care for Balthazaar, he’s a bigger lush than Glenvar and a dumber oaf than you. The last thing I want to do is spend a week with him in the region I hate most!”

He bit his tongue. There went his mother again, using him as a puppet to mouth off about the people he cared for. Why couldn’t he stop?

If Evan were anyone else, he’d probably slap Lukas across the face. But being who he was, and understanding him like he did, he just squeezed Lukas’ shoulder and told him, “We love you too, friend. I’ll see you in a week.”

*

Balthazaar never did well on flights. Lukas found it impossible to relax while the man was screaming, vomiting, and hyperventilating during the whole trip to Rodanga. Shadow’s gazebo couldn’t touch ground fast enough, and when it did, the two mercenaries rushed out and kissed the soil. Isaac waved them goodbye before taking flight back to Drifter’s Hollow.

Mercenary work had taken Lukas to Rodanga once or twice over the decades, but this was Balthazaar’s first time setting foot here since he was eighteen years old. He left his parents and two younger brothers behind when he left. At last, they would be reunited today!

They stood in a wild, open field on the outskirts of the city. Rodanga was located in the Midland Savannah on Serkel’s eastern coast. It sat between an arid desert to the north and a balmy jungle to the south, and so it received qualities of both worlds. In winter, mists from the jungle rolled over the region and caused vibrant flowers to bloom.

But now, in the summer, everything was dusty and brown. The naturally red soil was a splash of color between tufts of dull grass and fat baobab trees sparsely peppering the landscape. The terrain was so flat, it just seemed to stretch on forever into the horizon.

The city of Rodanga broke up the scenery with its simple, cubic structures of clay. It was a fairly small and rural territory, where livestock ran loose along the streets, for everyone knew everyone else and there was no fear of theft. Yet nobody seemed to know Balthazaar, for the townsfolk were shooting him strange, distrustful looks as he walked down the main road with Lukas. They weren’t even wearing armor, but Balthazaar realized he was dressed more like a Folkvaran than a Matuzan, and they surely thought him a foreigner.

The flight took a lot out of them, so the two decided to eat before continuing their journey. Balthazaar led Lukas to a food stall, where an old woman was kneading dough upon a stone slab. “Safiyah, you’re still here! I can’t believe it!” blurted Balthazaar. A wide grin spread across his face, eyes lighting up like fireflies.

The woman turned to him and squinted, adjusting her round glasses. She was a portly human, perhaps sixty years of age, with her curly, gray hair bound in a colorful wrap. “Do I know you?” she asked. Balthazaar’s grin faltered.

“It’s me! Balthazaar Valentino? My brothers and I used to buy cookies from you every day after school!” he said, stepping closer.

The woman gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, leaving a streak of flour behind. “What? Balthazaar, you can’t be--! Y-you’re…you’re supposed to be dead!”

Balthazaar recoiled. “Dead? What?”

“That’s what I heard anyway! Folks said one of the Valentino boys got killed by Kaconenans, and I know damn well it wasn’t Talzihaar or Izkubaar! So it had to be you, right? Oh, no, don’t tell me some necromancer got a hold of you…!”

Waving his hands, Balthazaar assured her, “No, no! Everything’s fine! There must have been some sort of misunderstanding. I’ve just been, uh, out of the country for a while.” He scrubbed at his neck, realizing he had no idea how he wanted to approach this with his old acquaintances. His parents must have told everyone he was dead to protect him from the Matuzan Guard. He went on, “Anyway, I’m just here for a visit, but I didn’t want to leave before tasting your cooking again. Do you still make those ham-rolls? The ones with the white gravy?”

“I sure do! How many do you want? About ten, twenty? I see someone’s been feeding you well up north,” Safiyah teased, poking him in the gut with a long spoon.

Balthazaar chuckled, patting Lukas on the shoulder as he said, “How about three for me and one for my skinny friend here? You ever had a Rodangi ham-roll, Lukas?”

“Uh, no,” Lukas replied, eyeing the barrel of cooking fat nearby. Flies were buzzing around it, occasionally landing on Safiyah’s wares. The woman absently swatted at them as she set to work, adding some of the fat to a pan and frying up strips of meat over a fire. Once they were cooked through, she wrapped them around a handful of diced vegetables, then poured hot gravy over the ham-balls and topped them with cheese.

She offered the food in bowls made from gourd skins. It was the fattiest, greasiest, thing Lukas had ever laid eyes on, and Balthazaar was already on his second one before Lukas had even touched his first. They sat at a table in an open lot across from the stall, where other customers were happily chewing through her traditional cuisine.

The Rodangi people ate everything with their hands, and Balthazaar was no exception. He shoved another ham-roll in his mouth whole and licked the gravy off his fingers. Speaking over the food, he asked, “You gonna eat that or what? ‘Cause I’ll finish it if you don’t.”

Lukas winced, wiping a fleck of Balthazaar’s spittle off his face. “I can’t believe _Evan’s_ the one having heart trouble, meanwhile you’ve been scarfing down slop like this your whole life…” he said.

Wearing a cheeky smile, Balthazaar replied, “Come on, it’s good for you! Makes us Rodangi boys grow up big and strong!”

“Well, I’m a Uekoran boy,” said Lukas, pushing the bowl towards Balthazaar.

The man accepted it with a shrug. “Suit yourself,” he said, and within a couple minutes all the food was gone. They left the bowls in a wheelbarrow full of compost and continued on their way. Looking this way and that, Balthazaar mentioned, “This place barely changed at all since I left. I don’t know why, but I was expecting it to be a lot…bigger.”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because folks are just racing to live in a cultured utopia like _Rodanga_ …”

Balthazaar glared at him. “What’s wrong with it? I grew up here, it’s a great city!”

“Sure, if your ambitions lie no further than shoveling manure, I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Are you going to pull that stick out of your ass, or do I have to reach up there and do it for you?” snapped Balthazaar. “You can be anything in Rodanga! When I was a kid, I wanted to be a barber like my father.”

“Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

“You tell me. How’s my beard look?” Balthazaar asked, turning to face him with a toothy smile. His graying, chest-length beard was neatly combed, ends trimmed evenly, and he’d even gone through the trouble of twisting a tiny braid in the center, adorned with a golden clasp. He’d been looking quite disheveled since Feredil’s death, but Lukas had to admit, he really pulled himself together today.

“You’ve looked worse,” he answered.

He nearly fell over when the man clapped him on the back with his massive hand and said, “Pretty big compliment, coming from a peckerwood like you. Oh, we’re almost there! See that house up there, on the hill?”

Lukas squinted. There was a row of houses atop a hill in the distance, shaded by a line of baobab trees. “It’s the one on the end, left side,” Balthazaar added. “I’m kind of nervous. Ah, shit, look at my shirt! It’s filthy! I can’t show up looking like this! We have to find a clothing store!” He tugged the hem of his cotton shirt, exposing the sweat, vomit, and gravy stains that had accumulated throughout their journey.

“Balthazaar, it’s fine,” Lukas assured him, unwilling to spend more time in this city than necessary. “Trust me, after all these years, they’ll just be happy to see you again.”

Balthazaar wouldn’t hear it. “Quick, give me your vest!” he demanded.

“Are you crazy? What makes you think we’re anywhere _near_ the same size?”

“I can’t make a bad impression, Lukas! I don’t want them to know I’ve been slumming around like a bum all year!” Balthazaar told him urgently, already dragging him into a nearby market. This open dirt plaza was choked with tents, shielding vendors and their stalls from the brutal Midland sun.

As Balthazaar browsed for clothes, Lukas wandered towards an adjacent stall selling all manner of random things. It was tended by a young roshavan woman, leafing through a magazine. She barely paid Lukas a glance as he picked through her disorganized boxes. He found tattered books, tarnished jewelry, chipped dishware, and realized she was selling used goods. None of it stolen, he hoped, for he saw an item he couldn’t pass up.

“How much for this?” he asked, holding up a wooden elephant figurine. It fit in the palm of his hand.

The vendor paid it a quick glance and decided, “Ten GP.”

“How about two?” haggled Lukas.

She wasn’t having it. “Eight.”

“Three.”

“Eight.”

“This thing is made of wood, not gold!” argued Lukas.

She looked the item over again and decided, “Six GP.”

“Make it four or I walk.”

The woman rolled her eyes and held out one of her four palms. “Four it is,” she grunted, accepting his coins.

Lukas put the figure in his satchel. He decided he’d keep it around as a good luck charm. Elephants symbolized family in Uekoran culture, and they were going to need all the luck they could get trying to reunite Balthazaar with his own. He meandered over to another stall, where an old human man was selling medicines and tinctures. His table was stocked with an assortment of natural and synthetic remedies, some of which surely weren’t legal in this kingdom.

Lukas picked up a small, familiar bottle. The label read “Dr. Dreamer’s Sleeping Medicine”. He’d taken this remedy in the past when his insomnia was running him particularly ragged, but it was so powerful that he didn’t like to make a habit of it. Just one drop would knock him out all night and day. Since he wasn’t expected to play watchman this week, he figured he’d indulge and haggled the vendor down to twelve gold pieces for it.

He was done wasting time here. He looked around for Balthazaar, sighing when he found the man still messing around at the same vendor’s tall. He was in the middle of a conversation with the goblin clothier, who was taking the man’s measurements with a length of tape. The tape wasn’t long enough to circle Balthazaar’s waist, and the clothier’s long ears drooped when he realized this.

The goblin cleared his throat and said, “Er, my apologies, sir. But I’m afraid we don’t have anything that would fit a man of your…exceptional size.”

Balthazaar groaned, “Do you know anyone who does? I’m about to visit my parents and I can’t show up wearing this!”

The goblin hesitated, twiddling his fingers in front of his lips. There was an anxious, regretful look in his eyes when he answered, “Um, er, there is another clothier eight stalls down to the right. He may have something to suit your needs. W-we mostly stock fae sizes, you see.”

“Gotcha. Thanks,” said Balthazaar, then he and Lukas ventured deeper into the busy market. They counted the stalls until they reached another clothier. The stall was tended by a centauran man with a dappled, gray equine hide. His wares were displayed on hooks hanging from folding racks. Balthazaar searched through several blankets, wondering where the clothes were. He soon realized these were not blankets, but shawls meant to be worn over a centaur’s back. The vendor himself was wearing one, a colorful, loudly-patterned garment that was fashionable in this region.

“Wait a minute,” mumbled Balthazaar. “These are made for centaurs. Everything here is for centaurs!” He gestured to the racks before him, each one bearing garments for peoples much, much bigger than he. Lukas snorted and burst out into laughter.

Balthazaar looked back towards the goblin clothier and curled his fist, growling, “That little green bastard! Come on now, I’m not _that_ fat!”

The centauran vendor must have heard his commotion, for he plodded over and queried, “Is there a problem here, sir?”

“I…Ugh, no, I’m just trying to find a nice outfit before I visit my parents,” grumbled Balthazaar. “Do you know anyone around here that sells commoner sizes?”

The vendor looked him over, scratching at his stubbled chin. “I think I have something that might suit you,” he said, reaching into a densely-packed rack of clothes. He flipped through it for a few seconds before pulling out a dressy beige shirt with long, flared sleeves. It was adorned with beads and buttoned up to the middle of the chest. He said, “I mean, this is technically a centaur size, but…Why don’t you try it on anyway?”

Balthazaar looked at Lukas, who only shrugged back. He pulled off his sweaty old shirt and tossed it to the commander, then put on the new one. To his surprise, every seam sat exactly where it was supposed to. “Wow! Hey, this actually fits great! How much do you want for it?” he beamed.

His smile disappeared when the vendor answered, “Eighty GP, no haggling.”

“Eighty GP? I could buy a Morite slave for that kind of money! Are you kiddin’ me?” exclaimed Balthazaar.

Lukas quickly stepped in and handed over the gold, reminding him, “Live a little, it looks good on you! Besides, it’s on Evan’s coin. Can I get a receipt, please?”

The vendor accepted the money and scribbled up a receipt, which Lukas stuffed in his satchel with the medicine and the elephant figurine. He knew Evan wouldn’t be happy when he saw that they spent nearly a hundred gold pieces on a shirt, but he was seldom happy about anything these days anyway. Whatever would get them through this trip faster, thought Lukas.

Refreshed and smartly-dressed, the two finally made their way up the hill to the rowhouses. Balthazaar raised his hand to knock on the front door, but froze, staring at something to his left. Lukas questioned, “Something wrong?”

Balthazaar’s gaze drifted around the front of the house, as if searching for something. “Huh. Dad’s sign is gone,” he observed. “He used to have this sign out here for his services. Trim and shave, five GP. Price never changed from the day I was born ‘til the day I left.”

“It’s been a while. Maybe he’s retired,” said Lukas.

Balthazaar frowned. “It has, huh? He’s probably old and gray now. Lukas, I…I can’t do this!”

He turned to leave in a panic, but Lukas grabbed him by the sleeve of his expensive shirt and hissed, “Don’t you dare get cold feet now! I didn’t come all the way here for you to chicken out!” With that, he reached out and pounded on the door himself.

Balthazaar made a half-hearted attempt to escape, but he knew it was too late. There was nowhere to hide in these big, open plains, and no time anyway as the door opened shortly after. He turned around and saw a young human girl standing in the doorway. She was perhaps five or six years old, with a brown complexion very much like Balthazaar’s and her dark, curly hair pulled into a ponytail atop her head.

A slightly older, similar-looking girl appeared behind her and greeted, “Hello?”

Balthazaar just stared at her, slack-jawed and silent, so Lukas cleared his throat and said, “Uh, hello there. Are Mr. and Mrs. Valentino home?”

“Oh, yeah! Just one second,” said the girl, then she hollered into the house, “Mommy! Daddy! There’s some scary men at the door!”

Lukas raised an eyebrow. Balthazaar certainly looked scary no matter what he wore, but was he scary too? He wasn’t even wearing his armor or holding a weapon, but he supposed the gruff aura of a mercenary couldn’t simply be discarded like a pair of socks.

The girl picked up the younger one and carried her into the house. A man appeared shortly after, and if Balthazaar dropped about half his weight, Lukas would struggle to tell them apart. They were both tall, imposing men with brown skin, shiny bald heads, and long, dark beards. Upon closer inspection though, Lukas saw that this man was nowhere near as grizzled and haggard as Balthazaar. He was likely quite a bit younger, and surely lived an easier life.

The man looked at Lukas, then his eyes rounded when they shifted over to Balthazaar. “What on Gaia…? B-brother? Is that you?” he exclaimed, voice growing louder with every word.

At last, Balthazaar unfroze. A huge smile spread across his face and he rushed towards the man, nearly tackling him to the floor. “Talzihaar!” he laughed gleefully. “Yes, it’s me! It’s me! I came all the way back here just to remind you who’s boss, you little snot!” He broke away from the hug to scrub his knuckles against the man’s head.

Talzihaar squirmed his way out of his grip, crying and laughing all at once. He seemed weak on his knees, leaning his backside against the front of the house. “I knew it! I knew you’d return someday!” he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Get in here! We have so much to catch up on!”

Balthazaar followed his little brother into the house, Lukas closely in tow. They entered a modest sitting room, typical of the region with all its warm, colorful tones. The walls were covered by tapestries, the floor blanketed by layers of rugs. Talzihaar briefly disappeared into another room. When he returned, he brought a woman and three girls with him.

“Balthazaar, this is my wife, Naima,” he said, touching the woman’s shoulder. She greeted them with a smile and a polite tip of her head. She was slight of frame and long of hair, with a complexion like shiny copper. Talzihaar gestured to the girls from oldest to youngest when he introduced them, “And these are my daughters, Riza, Eliza, and Alzira. Girls, this is my big brother, Balthazaar!”

Lukas furrowed his brow, already lost. Rodangi naming conventions were consistent to a fault. He was going to mix their names up and embarrass himself eventually, he just knew it.

“Your _daughters_?” blurted Balthazaar. He let out a loud, hearty laugh and slapped his brother on the arm. “I can’t believe it! Little Talzihaar’s all grown up with kids of his own! I thought I’d never see the day!” He paused, eyes growing wide. “Wait. That means…I-I’m an uncle? I’m an uncle! Lukas, I have _nieces_! Three of them, look!” He turned back to Lukas, pointing at the giggling girls.

Lukas smiled a little. “Congratulations,” he said.

“This is wonderful!” said Naima, clasping her hands together with excitement. “Talzihaar talks about you all the time, Mr. Balthazaar! He always told me you’d return to Rodanga one day, but I started doubting him long ago. I guess he was right all along! Wait here, I’ll mix up some drinks and we can celebrate!”

She swiftly disappeared through a doorway, then Talzihaar gestured to the cushions surrounding a round table in the center of the room. The mercenaries sat down with him, but his daughters weren’t ready to relax. They immediately flocked to Balthazaar in a flurry of giggles.

“Uncle Balthazaar looks just like daddy!” said the second-youngest, Eleza. She was the one who greeted them at the door.

“Except he’s big and fat like a elephant!” added Alzira, with the curly ponytail.

“Girls, mind your manners,” warned Talzihaar.

Balthazaar was not offended. Rather, he joined in their laughter and pulled them all into a tight squeeze. “This is great! I love being an uncle! Talzihaar, you’ve got to make me some more of these kids!”

Talzihaar let out an anxious laugh, “Gods forbid! We can barely afford the ones we have…”

“Your shirt is pretty, Uncle Balthazaar!” said Eleza. She grabbed Riza’s hand and rubbed it against his sleeve. “Feel it, Riza! It’s real soft, like gryphon feathers!” They broke into a fit of excited giggles again.

“Alright, let’s calm down and give the poor man some space,” said their father. The girls took their place on the empty cushions and he asked, “Where have you been all these years, brother?”

Balthazaar hesitated. What could he say? What _should_ he say? “I’ve been travelling the world,” he decided. “Work takes me all over the place. I never know where I’ll end up next, but I knew I had to give the orange country some time to cool off, you know? I can’t stay away any longer. I missed the family too much. How’s mom and dad? Are they home?”

A brief, awkward silence fell over the room. Even the girls averted their gazes, staring down at the table. “Oh…” Talzihaar began carefully. “Uh, mom and dad are…gone, Balthazaar. I’m so sorry.”

Lukas cringed. Part of him expected this. He looked over at Balthazaar, who had suddenly turned white as a sheet.

He was speechless, so Talzihaar added, “Dad was the first to go, about ten years back. Tripped and fell, hit his head on this very table.” He slapped the tabletop a couple times. “It was very sudden, he didn’t suffer for a moment. Sure shocked us all though.”

He paused, carefully choosing his words before he continued, “As for mom, well…I think it’s been three, four years now? She had some kind of infection. You know how she was about doctors, and I swear on my life, brother, I tried everything to get that medicine in her! But she wouldn’t take it, and now she’s gone. Dad told her over and over that her stubbornness would be the death of her, remember?” He forced a smile, shaking his head. “The old man was right. But they’re together now, and so are we. I know they’re looking down on us from the stars and dancing with joy!”

Balthazaar didn’t know what to say. He was shocked, to say the least. But as he sat there and reflected on it, he supposed he shouldn’t be. Like Lukas said, a lot of time had passed, and apparently so too had some of those he loved.

He cleared his throat and rumbled, “I’m just sorry I wasn’t there, brother. That must have been rough on you.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters,” Talzihaar told him. Naima returned then with a tray in her hands and set it on the table. Four goblets of palm wine and three glasses of milk rested on the tray.

The group chatted for quite some time, catching up on all the years they spent apart. Balthazaar introduced them to Lukas, told them of his mercenary work and his brief stint in the Yerim-Mor military. He neglected to mention being hunted by the Divine of Hate, or the fact that he was living in a tent in the wilderness. As far as they knew, he was a successful, self-made man who owned houses all over Gaia.

He also told them of Feredil, but he couldn’t talk about her for long before tears threatened to break his composure. He simply mentioned that she had passed recently and he had no children of his own. “…So it does my heart good to have these kids around,” he told his brother, rustling Eleza’s hair. “They’re so quiet and well-behaved. You sure they’re yours?”

Talzihaar chuckled, “When you see them fight, you’ll have no doubt. Don’t let them fool you, they’re like wild animals!”

Alzira briefly disappeared into another room. She returned with a cloth doll in her hands and exclaimed, “Uncle Balthazaar! Uncle Balthazaar! Look at my dolly! She’s a princess.”

“Ah, she’s beautiful!” said the grizzled old mercenary. He kissed the doll’s hand to greet it as he’d greet any royal Matuzan woman.

Never to be outdone, Eleza was quick to retrieve a doll of her own. “My dolly’s better because she’s a _queen_ ,” she said, holding the toy high in the air.

Balthazaar paid it steep bow and said, “Pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

“Wait, I have a doll too!” said Riza, rising to her feet. She scrambled towards the hall, only to smack into the side of the doorway in her haste. She backed away and covered her face with her hands.

“Oh! Riza, baby, are you alright?” her mother gasped.

The girl crawled back to her seat on her hands and knees, rubbing her sore nose. “I think so…is my nose bleeding?” she asked.

“Doesn’t look like it,” answered Balthazaar, sitting closest to her. She was the oldest of his nieces, perhaps nine or ten, wearing her hair in a silk wrap that was draped all the way down over her eyes. Balthazaar began tucking in the loose fabric as he lectured, “Here’s your problem, girlie. You’ve had this thing flopping over your eyes all day lo—ah! Shit!”

He cut himself off with a yelp, drawing his hands back like something had bitten him. But he was only startled by her disfigurement, which had been concealed by her hair wrap until that very moment. Her eyes were gone. In their place were two scarred, raw sockets. Balthazaar had seen enough violence and maiming in his line of work to know she was not born this way. This must have been the result of a gouging.

Riza didn’t take his reaction well. Her lip trembled and she immediately burst into sobs, scrambling away down the hall. She bolted through the doorway she missed just before as Balthazaar called after her, “Wait, wait! Riza, please, I didn’t mean—”

A loud door slam quaked the house, and then he knew it was too late. He dragged his palms down his burning face, wishing the gods would send a lightning bolt his way and kill him on the spot. He’d deserve as much, he thought. Lukas could have died right beside him, if only to escape the awkward situation he created for all of them.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Balthazaar mumbled beneath his sweaty hands. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Naima already disappeared to comfort her daughter, leaving Talzihaar to explain alone. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. This is hardly the first time she’s been through this,” he said, expression twisted with regret. “I’m sorry, brother, I should have said something earlier. Our little Riza is completely blind. There was a…an _accident_ several years ago.”

The word “accident” carried a bitter edge, as if it pained him to use it. “What happened to the poor girl?” Balthazaar asked quietly, breathlessly. The gruesome sight was still rattling his nerves.

“Cousin Azadora scratched her eyes out,” Eleza spat. Her face was scrunched up with anger.

Balthazaar was equal parts horrified and confused. “Izkubaar’s daughter,” his brother clarified, rubbing his neck. “She’s…something else, that kid. She came over to play one day, and…” He sighed, throwing a hand towards the hall. “I wasn’t there, but Naima tells me she left them alone for no more than five minutes when she heard the screams. Found that devil-child sitting on top of our girl with blood on her hands.” He shuddered. “They were only five years old, both of them. I still don’t understand it. It is what it is now, we just do the best we can with the situation.”

“Gaia help me, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard…” muttered Balthazaar. “You’re telling me _Izkubaar’s_ kid did this? Our very own brother? The man who volunteered with the House of Karenza and got after us for cursing in front of Grandma?”

Talzihaar sighed, “I know, I still can’t believe it either. He went and married an accountant, seemed like a nice enough woman to me. She and Naima got on well. But that girl of theirs…She always had some behavioral issues, I just never expected her to do something like _that_! It just came out of nowhere!”

He leaned forward and continued, “And you know what the craziest part is? Izkubaar and his wife blamed _us_! Now how on Gaia could that possibly be our fault? We didn’t raise that demonic little monster! Anyway, they’re no longer welcome in our home. I haven’t spoken to any of them since. I might be willing to, if Izkubaar would be a man and at least apologize to us! But he can’t even do that. That bastard is dead to me.”

He knocked back the last of his drink in one gulp. Balthazaar and Lukas exchanged looks of concern. Turning back to his brother, Balthazaar said, “That doesn’t sound like Izkubaar at all. He was always the goody-goody of the family, everyone loved him!”

“Yes, well, people change,” grumbled Talzihaar. “Shortly after you left, he started getting into mom and dad’s wine cabinet. His habit got so bad, I couldn’t cover for him anymore. They were furious! They kicked him out, he cleaned himself up for a while, got back into the drink, cleaned himself up…” He shrugged. “He was up and down like that for years. I thought he finally got it together when he married that wife of his, but apparently not. They say a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. If that’s true, then Izkubaar’s a real horse’s ass! The drink made a monster of him.”

Balthazaar was about to speak, but he held his tongue when he heard a sniffle from behind. He turned and saw Naima carrying Riza back into the room. The girl was sniffling, but no longer sobbing as she was before. “Mr. Balthazaar,” Naima began, “was there something you wanted to say to our daughter? She knows it was rude to run away while an elder was speaking to her, and she’s very sorry.”

Balthazaar shook his head and told her, “She has nothing to apologize for. The only rude one here is me. I’ve killed men with my bare hands, and I’ve still never felt more like a barbarian than I do right now! I’m so sorry I cussed like that, Riza. It wasn’t at you, okay? You’re a beautiful, sweet little girl! It’s just that when I see bad things happen to kids, I get angry. And when I’m angry, I cuss like a sailor. Your daddy knows all about that…”

Talzihaar smiled. “It’s true. Almost gave your great-grandma a heart attack once with that mouth of his,” he added.

Balthazaar opened his arms and Naima placed her daughter in his lap. He squeezed her in a hug and continued, “Your uncle’s a big idiot. This big idiot loves you a lot though, I promise you that! No matter how much time passes, no matter how far apart we are, you’re all my family.” He swept his gaze over the others, eyes full of love and guilt and sincerity.

Lukas watched the heartfelt exchange, silent yet miserable with envy. The Valentinos had such a close bond, such a beautiful understanding with eachother, such love in their hearts! He felt like he was watching a sappy stageplay, the kind of thing that only existed in fiction. Why had life denied the Fanakas of this family bliss? Why were the gods picking on him of all people?

“Excuse me, I’ll be back in ten,” he muttered to Balthazaar, rising to his feet.

Balthazaar queried, “Where are you going?”

“Smoke break.”

“What? You don’t smoke,” said Balthazaar, but Lukas was already out the door.

The commander rounded the side of the house and pressed his back against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position. Under the bold shadows of the awning, he dropped his face into his hands and wept.

*

The mercenaries spent the whole day with Talzihaar and his family, sharing food and stories until it grew dark. Lukas suggested they get an inn room, but the Valentinos insisted that they stay for the night.

The house was quite cramped, with only two small bedrooms to share between them all. Balthazaar remembered fighting for space in that tiny bedroom with his two brothers, and he felt bad that conditions hadn’t improved for his nieces. Talzihaar pushed the sitting room table into the corner while Naima laid down two bedrolls for their guests.

“If you need anything during the night, just let us know,” said Naima. “Talzihaar must get up early for work tomorrow, but he’ll try not to wake you.”

Balthazaar thanked her and sat down on his bedroll. He said, “You know, I just realized I never asked what you do for a living, Naima. If you have somewhere to be tomorrow, we can watch the kids for you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she told him. “I’m home every day with the girls. Er, with Riza, mostly. She had a terrible time in school. Those nasty kids bullied her so bad, I had no choice but to pull her out! It was better if I quit my job and just taught her at home. So, I guess you could say I have two jobs: I’m a homemaker _and_ a teacher.” She offered a smile, though her eyes were weary and doleful above.

Her words pained Balthazaar’s heart. The couple was good at pretending, but the more time he spent with them, the more he realized they were barely holding it together. Talzihaar surely didn’t take home much from his job at the stables, and with Naima forced to care for their disabled child, their finances were stretched even thinner.

None of this would have happened if Balthazaar just kept his hands to himself, he thought. If he hadn’t punched that Matuzan officer, he would have been here to keep Izkubaar in line.

Just before Talzihaar left the room, his brother stopped him. “Hey,” began Balthazaar, “uh, I think I should pay Izkubaar a visit tomorrow. Just to lay eyes on the guy, you know? Do you know where he’s living these days?”

Talzihaar replied, “Last I saw him, he was living in a shack on the north end of town. I can take you there on my way to work, but I’m not going inside. I don’t even want to see his face!”

“Understandable,” grunted Balthazaar. “I’ll take you up on that offer. Sleep well, brother.”

The mercenaries settled into the bedrolls, Balthazaar blowing out the candle between them. Lukas discreetly fished the bottle of sleeping medicine out of his satchel. He squeezed a tiny fraction of a drop on his tongue, struggling to keep his eyes open before he could even close the bottle. He twisted the cap, it fell from his hand, and then he was out like the candle’s flame.

He awoke hours later to someone jostling him back and forth. Balthazaar’s blurry silhouette loomed over him, calling, “…come on, wake up, come on! Ah, there we go! Sheesh, I was starting to think you died in your sleep! We have to start getting ready or Talzihaar’s gonna be late for work.”

Lukas tried to stand, but his rubbery legs wobbled and collapsed. He had a few false starts before he got to his feet, and then he was helping Balthazaar drag the table back into its rightful place. There the family ate a breakfast of fatty meat, whole eggs, and cheese-drenched bread together. After that, it was time to wash.

The men cleaned up the dishes while Naima and the girls disappeared into the washroom. They bathed together, and then it was the mens’ turn. Lukas much preferred to bathe in the cool, open river in Drifter’s Hollow. There were no such rivers in Rodanga, so he was forced to shove himself into a cramped little room with two other men and bathe with a rag.

They stood undressed in a shallow, tiled pit in the floor, dunking rags in buckets of soapy water and wringing them out over their heads. The water drained away into the city’s primitive sewer system, probably filling a cesspit somewhere on the edge of town.

The three men dressed, Talzihaar kissed his wife and daughters goodbye, and then they were out the door just as the first rays of sun were beaming over the flat horizon. They approached a stable near the rowhouses, where the tenant’s steeds were kept. Talzihaar attached a cart to two camels and sat in the driver’s seat. Lukas and Balthazaar climbed in back, admiring the natural beauty of the savannah during their ride to the outskirts.

The road became more vague as they moved further from the town proper, until there was no road at all. Talzihaar simply followed a big, long pipe that was half-buried in the ground. Eventually, the pipe came to an end at a reeking pit of filth. It must have been a sewage outlet from the city, the mercenaries thought, and that’s where Talzihaar stopped.

He pointed at a dilapidated wooden shack in the distance. “That’s Izkubaar’s house, just down there. I’m not getting any closer. I’ve got to go to work now, but I’ll leave one of the camels for you.”

As Talzihaar unfastened one of the camels from the cart, his brother queried, “He lives _here_? Right by the cesspit? Ugh, this whole stretch of road reeks! Why?”

“I’m sure it’s all he can afford,” grunted Talzihaar, handing him the reigns. “The closer you get to the sewer outlets, the cheaper taxes are. Shoot, the city probably pays _him_ to live here! Maybe that’s why his kid is so messed up. Breathing these fumes all day and night can’t be good for anyone…”

He climbed back in his cart. “Naima will let you in when you return. I’ll see you guys again around sundown.”

The mercenaries watched his cart roll away, following the pipeline back to town. They finished the journey on foot, and after five minutes or so, they reached Izkubaar’s doorstep. The house looked even worse up close. There were holes in the walls, patched up by sheets of metal and pressed wood. The slanted roof was caving in and several shingles were missing. There were only two windows, and both of them were boarded up.

If it weren’t for the sounds of chaos from inside, they would have thought the place was abandoned. They stood on the doorstep for a moment, shooting eachother strange looks as they listened to the shouts and thumps behind the door. A child was screaming bloody murder, and alongside it were two adult voices speaking, but they were too muffled to understand.

“Should we?” queried Balthazaar.

Hitching the camel to a broken fence, Lukas replied, “We came all the way here, so we might as well. How bad could it possibly be?”

Reluctantly, Balthazaar knocked on the door. It opened shortly. He was facing an old man with a beard even longer than his own, streaked with gray and frizzled with neglect. His curly hair looked much the same, eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark bags.

Balthazaar’s eyes widened, pupils shrinking to pinpoints when he realized this was not an old man—this was his younger brother, Izkubaar! Yet somehow life had grinded him down like sand against stone, making him appear so much older than he was.

Izkubaar’s eyes rounded too. He looked just as surprised to see Balthazaar and gasped, “Brother? B-Balthazaar? Are you…?”

“It’s me,” Balthazaar croaked, swallowing the lump of anxiety in his throat. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Izkubaar’s knees knocked. He dropped his face into his hand and leaned on the doorframe to steady himself as he wept. He was thin as a rail, wearing tattered rags in serious need of a washing. Balthazaar had seen vagrants more put-together than him. Worse yet, he was covered in cuts and bruises everywhere from his face to his hands. The cut on his lip looked rather fresh, still bleeding at that moment.

“Aww, brother, please don’t cry! It’s okay, I’m here now!” pleaded Balthazaar, placing his hands on his shoulders.

Izkubaar quickly jerked away and snapped, “You can’t just disappear for twenty years and show up like nothing happened! We all thought you died out there! W-why didn’t you write us?”

“I was paranoid, okay?” Balthazaar growled back. “What if our letters got intercepted by the Guard? They’d trace them right back to me and you’d get in trouble too!”

“So what are you doing here now?”

“It’s been long enough,” said Balthazaar, lowering his voice. “I can’t stay away anymore, I need my family. Talzihaar said you weren’t doing so well, so I just wanted to check on you. How, uh…how are you doing?”

Izkubaar suddenly perked up and exclaimed, “Oh, I’m doing just fine! _Talzihaar’s_ the one with all the problems, not me! I don’t know what that little prick told you, but it’s lies, all of it!”

A ruckus started up again behind him. The mercenaries jumped at a loud crash, followed by a child’s screech. The inside of the house was dark, but they could make out a woman’s shadow run past the doorway.

“Everything okay in there?” queried Balthazaar.

“Of course! We’re just playing a game. Come in, come in, please,” said Izkubaar, stepping aside and motioning them through the doorway. The mercenaries hesitated, then stepped inside. After a few seconds, their eyes adjusted to the dim light of a single oil lamp dangling from the ceiling.

Lukas and Balthazaar were left speechless by the sight before them. To call the place “trashed” was an understatement. Furniture was toppled over and broken to pieces, every inch of the floor covered with debris. The interior reeked of mold, urine, and feces, and it didn’t take long to discover why. The walls were smeared with human filth. Discarded food was left to rot wherever it lie. How anyone could survive in these conditions, Balthazaar couldn’t even imagine.

They saw a woman crouching near the back of the room. She, too, was underweight and clad in rags, and her ratty, black hair appeared to be torn out in places, if the bald patches on her head were any indication. She suddenly turned around to face them. Her face was bloody and bruised just like Izkubaar’s. Only then did the mercenaries notice the child in front of her, gnawing on her arm.

“Rezera, we have guests! This is my brother, Balthazaar! The one I told you about!” announced Izkubaar. The woman, Rezera, picked up the child and shot to her feet.

“Hello there! So nice to meet you!” she said brightly. There was an unsettling aura about her, something false and unnatural. Her bloodshot eyes were full of fear like those of a caged animal, her tone much too chipper for the bleak situation around her. The little girl in her arms continued to gnaw on her, and she only maintained her toothy smile with tears in her eyes.

Izkubaar continued, “Brother, this is my wife, Rezera.” He approached her and patted the unruly child on the head. “And this is our sweet daughter, Azadora. Say ‘hello’ to your uncle, Azadora!”

The child finally released her mother’s arm, if only to scream at the top of her lungs, “Fuck you! Choke on an ogre’s cock and die, die, die!”

The mercenaries recoiled, brows nearly shooting off their foreheads. Yes, something was indeed very, _very_ wrong here. Even more alarming, neither of her parents seemed the least bit concerned. Rezera just let out an anxious laugh and told them, “Isn’t she so funny? She says the most colorful things! Have a seat anywhere, I’ll get you boys some drinks!”

She put the girl on the floor and began rifling through a cabinet. Lukas and Balthazaar looked around, but they could not find a reasonable place to sit. They watched Izkubaar simply sit atop a pile of old clothes and debris, completely ignoring his daughter as she began breaking random things she found among the trash.

“What have you been up to since you fled Rodanga, brother?” asked Izkubaar.

“Uh…” Balthazaar began slowly, clearing his throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off the troubled girl. “I-I’m a mercenary now. This is my crewman, Lukas.”

“A mercenary? Figured you’d finally stop punching our troops and put those fists of yours to good use, huh?” his brother jested.

Balthazaar sighed, “Yeah, well…”

Rezera then passed them each a bottle of cheap Matuzan beer and took a spot next to her husband. She’d just barely sat down when Azadora charged her and swiped the bottle from her hands. All Rezera did was smile as she watched her daughter—who couldn’t have been older than six—take a swig of the beer before spitting it in her parent’s faces, then smashing the bottle on the floor.

“Eat shit, swines!” the girl screeched. The mercenaries’ jaws fell slack, in disbelief at what they’d just seen. Izkubaar and Rezera shared a laugh as they wiped the beer off their faces.

“She’s so gifted,” Rezera said fondly.

“That’s our little girl,” added Izkubaar.

There was no doubt about it now: foul magic was at play here. This couple was deeply lost in some kind of enthrallment, but to who? As he watched their daughter pull out another fistful of Rezera’s hair, Lukas had a feeling he knew exactly who their master was.

“Will you excuse us for just a moment?” said Lukas, setting his bottle aside. He took Balthazaar by the arm and dragged him through the front door. They closed it behind them and walked several paces away from the house.

Once they were certain they were out of earshot, Balthazaar hissed, “Talzihaar wasn’t kidding, was he? Good god, that kid’s possessed! And the way they just laughed it off, did you see that? These people have lost their damn minds! W-what is this madness? I’ve never seen anything like it!” His hands were quaking with distress, fearing for his brother’s life.

“I have,” said Lukas. “I believe we’ve got a changeling on our hands.”

“A what?”

“A changeling. It’s a kind of monster,” Lukas explained. “There’s this divine called Allmother who steals peoples’ kids and replaces them with these nasty little cretins. Supposedly they only take kids with poor, miserable lives.”

Balthazaar looked back at the run-down house. “Are you telling me a divine kidnapped my niece? Where did she take her? How do we get her back?” His voice escalated with each word.

Lukas shushed him and replied, “As far as I know, there’s only one way: you have to return the changeling to Allmother and state your case. If she deems you worthy, you get your kid back. But if not, I’m not sure what happens. You’re stuck with the changeling, I guess.”

“Then we’ve got to tell my brother right away!” said Balthazaar, marching back to the house.

He didn’t get far before Lukas jumped in his path and barked, “No, stop! The changeling has them under its spell, they won’t listen to a word we say. If we even lay a hand on that monster, they’ll defend it with their lives. We have to—ow! What the--?”

Lukas cried out, twisting around to find a pint-sized predator sinking her teeth into his calf. The changeling had somehow crept out of the house unnoticed and immediately went on the attack. “Ow, ow! Fuck! Balthazaar, get it off me!” Lukas shouted, trying to shake her off. The monster wrapped her limbs around his leg and leg go for nothing. Blood was seeping through the cotton.

Balthazaar quickly seized Azadora’s arms and ripped her free. A small chunk of Lukas’ flesh and a mouthful of blood came with it. Her screech summon both of her parents at once, who came scrambling out of the house in a panic.

“Where’s Azadora? Where’s my precious girl?” blurted Izkubaar.

Balthazaar turned to face him, holding the squirming monster at arm’s length. “Your _precious girl_ just bit a chunk out of my crewman’s leg!” he shouted.

Rezera took Azadora into her arms and cradled her lovingly, chuckling, “Aww, someone must be hungry! Do you want a snack, baby girl?”

“Feed me! Feed me right now! Bloody flesh! Rip it out, rip it out!” Azadora screamed. Now in the sunlight, they could see a lifeless, strangely artificial quality to her eyes. Otherwise, she looked much like a normal six-year-old girl, dark of complexion with her long, frizzy brown hair hanging loose past her shoulders.

Something else didn’t add up, and that was her age. Talzihaar claimed both she and Riza were five years old when Azadora clawed out her eyes. But Riza was ten now, meaning five years had passed, so how could Azadora still be so young?

Lukas knew that changelings did not age. They remained at whatever age their respective child was stolen, which told him Azadora was taken years ago. He was surprised Izkubaar and Rezera had survived the monster’s torment this long, but by the look of them, they wouldn’t be around much longer if someone didn’t intervene.

As he rummaged through his satchel, Lukas assured them through his teeth, “I’ll be fine! It’s just a scratch! I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“Azadora is such a kind, gentle girl. She would never hurt anyone on purpose,” said Izkubaar, planting a kiss on the changeling’s cheek. She snapped her teeth at him, then spit in his eye.

“What do you mean ‘just a scratch’? Lukas, you’re bleeding like crazy!” said Balthazaar.

He kneeled beside his crewman to examine the wound, but Lukas seized his beard and whispered, “Just play dumb. Trust me.” He retrieved some salve and medical tape from his satchel and began tending his wound.

Once he finished, he followed the couple back to the house. They went inside, but he stopped just outside the door and nudged Balthazaar. Floundering for a moment, Balthazaar told them, “Thank you for having us over today, but we really need to get going now.”

“You’re leaving already?” queried Izkubaar. “Don’t tell me you’ll disappear for another twenty years!”

Balthazaar assured him, “No, no, of course not! I’ll be in town all week. Maybe I can stop by for another visit tomorrow. What’s your work situation like?”

“Ah, I don’t work a job anymore,” Izkubaar said with a flippant wave of his hand. “Used to be a brick maker, but I decided to quit so I could spend more time with my darling Azadora.”

“Me too,” added Rezera, still wearing her persistent, eerie smile. “Sometimes we take turns flying signs in town, but every minute away from our baby is like torture! She fills our lives with such joy.”

Balthazaar’s stomach dropped. They spoke utter madness! He had to wrestle this monster away from them and fast. But how?

“You can stop by any time tomorrow. We’ll be here,” said Izkubaar.

“Okay. Great,” replied Balthazaar, voice strained. “We’ll, uh…see you then.”

The door closed and the mercenaries turned to leave. Balthazaar unhitched the camel and helped Lukas onto its saddle, leading it back down the road by its reigns. “How’s your leg?” he asked.

“Feels as bad as it looks,” grumbled Lukas. “If I become bedridden with another infection, I swear I’ll crawl back here and burn that little shit alive!”

“Lukas, no! We have to take her to Allmother!” argued Balthazaar. “Where is this divine anyway? Probably somewhere in Matuzu Capital, right?”

Lukas let out a big sigh. “Try a little east of there…”

“Morsereg?”

“No. Eadhilde, in Mogdir Kingdom.”

“Is that a joke?” Balthazaar nearly shouted. “We have to get that thing all the way to _Evik_? H-how?”

“Getting the changeling on a flight is the easy part,” said Lukas. “The hard part is getting it away from your brother. Somehow, we need to smuggle it out of Rodanga before they notice it’s gone and blab to the authorities. The last thing you need is attention from the military.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

Lukas rolled his eyes and said, “What, you just assume I have one? Do I have to do _everything_? This is your family drama, not mine.”

“ _You’re_ the one who knows about this Allmother business!” bellowed Balthazaar, stopping to jab a finger at him. “I know nothing about this fae nonsense! And if we don’t do something soon, my poor brother’s going to die enthralled to that thing! So yes, you’re going to come up with a plan! Or so help me, I’ll take a chunk out of your other leg too!”

Lukas’ brows arched high. He raised his palms in defeat and replied, “Okay, okay, damn! Ugh, let’s see here…” He rubbed his smooth chin, silent in thought for a long while. They were half-way back to town when he finally broke the silence.

“I think I’ve got something,” he said. “We need to come back tomorrow, as early in the day as possible.”

*


	2. Allmother's Daughter

**[CHAPTER 2: ALLMOTHER’S DAUGHTER]**

The mercenaries returned to Talzihaar’s house. They came through the door as quietly as possible, for Riza and Naima seemed to be in the middle of a lesson. Sitting with her daughter at the table, Naima smiled at them and said, “Don’t be shy! Come on in and have a seat. How did you visit with Izkubaar go?”

Neither of the men knew how to respond to that question. They looked at one another, then Balthazaar answered vaguely, “Fine, just fine. Nothing to write home about.”

“Did he say anything about us?” Naima asked hopefully.

“No, nothing. The visit was very brief,” said Balthazaar. He decided to change the subject, gesturing to the books and papers scattered across the table when he asked, “What are you two up to in here?”

“Just the usual. Reading, math, science…Riza got a late start, but we’re finally studying _Galsungi_. I don’t even speak it, so it’s been enlightening for us both,” said Naima.

“Well, I won’t be any help there. I never learned but a few words of it myself,” mentioned Balthazaar. “They teach it more in the Midland Jungle, not so much over here. Good language to know when you’re bumping elbows with Matuzan royalty!” He gave Riza a playful nudge and she giggled.

He had a realization, slapped Lukas on the arm and added, “Wait, he speaks _Galsungi_! Why don’t you give them a lesson, Luke?”

Lukas looked at the overworked woman and her gentle daughter, and he knew he had no choice but to do so. “Alright,” he sighed. “Where do you want me to start?”

Naima told him, “We just covered some basic words, so maybe we should learn sentence structure next. We have this workbook, but some of it is a little beyond me…”

She handed Lukas a book titled “ _The Children’s Guide to Galsungi_ ”. He flipped through it a little, noticing the pages had dozens of little holes poked through them. Balthazaar leaned over to look at it too. He let out a whistle and chuckled, “You girls have been hitting the books hard! This thing looks like me after a training session!”

Lukas slugged him on the arm, but it was too late. Naima didn’t seem offended regardless. She maintained her calm smile when she told him, “Oh, you mean the holes? I made those, actually. Run your fingers over them, can you feel the bumps? Those are for Riza. They allow her to read with her fingers.”

“Huh?” Balthazaar furrowed his bushy brows. He reached over and touched the bumps, but he failed to understand how to read with them. They were not in the shape of any letters he recognized. “I don’t get it,” he said. “How?”

Before Naima could explain, Lukas snapped, “It’s touch-speak, genius! How else do you think the visually-impaired get through life?”

“Well, I don’t know! I just thought that…they…didn’t.” Balthazaar’s words trailed off, scrubbing at his neck when he realized how crude that sounded. “Uh, I’m sorry. I told you girls I was a big idiot and I meant it. I’ve never heard of this ‘touch-speak in all my forty-somethin’ years on Gaia.”

“It’s okay. I never did either until…Riza’s accident,” Naima said carefully. “Luckily, Talzihaar had the sense to take her to a specialist all the way in Morsereg. It’s a big city, lots of culture and educated folks over there. The specialist told us about the touch-language and gave Riza a book with all these bumps on the pages. Gods bless that doctor, I don’t know where she’d be if we hadn’t met him! I feel so much better about her future now. If we can somehow scrape the money together, I’d like to send her to college in one of the central cities.”

Lukas passed the book back to her and said, “She already knows _Universa_ and touch-speak. If she can master _Galsungi_ , she’ll be trilingual and opportunities will come pouring in. Not even I know touch-speak, but I do know _Galsungi_. So how about I teach you some phrases and you can poke them in for her?”

Naima’s eyes seemed to light up. She picked up a sewing needle, ready to work. The girl, her mother, and the mercenaries worked through their lesson together until it was time for lunch. They studied other subjects afterwards until Eleza and Alzira came home from school, and then Riza’s school day came to an end as well.

Balthazaar watched Naima rush about, trying to get dinner started all while keeping an eye on her daughters, breaking up their quarrels, cleaning up their messes, and last of all, taking care of her own basic needs. Still, her three girls didn’t cause half as much destruction in several hours as Izkubaar’s changeling caused in one minute. He did not envy his poor middle-brother. The guilt grew heavier with every second that passed, knowing he was being abused by that wretched thing.

All he could do was trust in Lukas. Despite his rotten attitude and snide remarks, there was a reason Evan chose him of all people to be the crew’s commander. He supposed he would see why tomorrow.

*

The next morning, Talzihaar dropped the mercenaries off at Izkubaar’s shack again. This time, they had a plan.

The sun was barely up and they could already hear chaos inside the house as they approached. Balthazaar knocked on the door. Rezera was the one to answer it, and they jumped at the sight of her. She was pressing a hand to her injured cheek, which bled profusely down her neck and arm.

Her tone was chipper regardless when she greeted, “Good morning! So good to see you again! Please, come in!” She stepped aside and let them through, back into the messy one-room house. They found Izkubaar hastily shoving stale bread into his mouth while his daughter sat on the floor nearby, ripping a dead bird apart with her hands.

“Azadora, your uncle is here to see you!” said Rezera. The changeling simply screeched and flung the bird at him. Balthazaar ducked to the side and narrowly dodged it, wincing when he heard it smack against the wall.

Lukas was holding a bottle of palm wine in his hands. It looked innocuous from the outside, but what the couple didn’t know was that it was poisoned with several drops of Dr. Dreamer’s Sleeping Medicine. Offering it to Izkubaar, he said, “We brought you guys a gift.”

Izkubaar cocked his head. “Is that…Kelloru’s Famous? Damn, that’s top-shelf stuff! You shouldn’t have!” he said with an ear-to-ear grin, eagerly taking the bottle. He pulled the cork off with his teeth, but before he could take a drink, Azadora tackled him and swatted the bottle from his hands.

“No!” Lukas and Balthazaar cried in unison. Their plan was spilling all over the trash-strewn floor!

“Uh-oh! Be careful, baby girl!” Izkubaar chuckled, picking up the bottle. “I know you want to give daddy lots of hugs, but this is a very expensive drink!”

“Mine! Give it!” the girl snarled, snatching it from his hands. The mercenaries watched in horror as she sucked down a big gulp, then pitched the bottle at the wall. Their plan was ruined the moment the bottle shattered.

The mercenaries stared at her, dumbfounded. What now? Within seconds, the muscles on her angry face relaxed. Azadora yawned, curled up on a pile of dirty laundry, and immediately went to sleep.

“Aww, look at her! She’s been playing all morning,” mentioned Rezera. “She must have worn herself right out! Izkubaar, you butter-fingers, let’s stop messing around and try this wine already! It’s too expensive to let it go to waste!”

She swiped a dirty linen off the floor, where Izkubaar had initially dropped the bottle. The fabric was saturated with wine, and the mercenaries’ expressions twisted in disgust as Rezera wrung it out over her open mouth. She passed it to Izkubaar, who did the same.

The couple furrowed their brows together. Even through the rank taste of the dirty linen, they could tell something wasn’t right. Lukas and Balthazaar held their breath, bracing themselves for whatever came next. “Huh. This doesn’t taste like…” Rezera began, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed like a cloth doll.

“Rezera!” cried Izkubaar, shooting to his feet. He wasn’t upright for more than a second before the medicine overtook him, and he fell right on top of his wife. All three members of the family were out cold.

“Well, that went better than expected,” said Lukas.

“No kidding! I thought we’d have to chase that kid around with a net like a rabid animal,” chuckled Balthazaar.

Lukas kneeled beside the changeling, extending a hand towards his cohort. “Let’s not take any chances. We have to make sure this thing is nice and secure before we get on any flights with it,” he said. Balthazaar reached into his satchel and handed him some lengths of rope. Lukas tied the monster up from head to toe, blindfolding it and stuffing a cloth gag in its mouth for good measure.

One of Talzihaar’s camels was waiting for them outside with luggage loaded onto its back. They stuffed the changeling into an empty suitcase, then hurried off back to Rodanga. On the plus side, Azadora got a generous dose of the medicine, and she would likely stay asleep until they got to Eadhilde.

Unfortunately, her parents didn’t get nearly as much as the mercenaries planned. They would wake up sooner than intended, and that meant there was no time to waste. It pained Balthazaar that he couldn’t say goodbye to Talzihaar and his family before he left, but they had to get to the dragonport before Azadora’s parents started a fuss with the Matuzan Guard over their missing child.

This mess was only temporary, Balthazaar told himself. Once he exchanged the changeling for the real Azadora, its spell would be broken, and then all would become clear to Izkubaar and Rezera. Then, perhaps, the couple could finally make amends with Talzihaar and they would all be a big, happy family again.

There was just one problem…

“How are we going to smuggle this thing past Morsereg security?” asked Balthazaar. “They won’t just let us bring a live monster onto an international flight! Especially one this nasty. What is it, do you think? A category three monster? Maybe even a four? We could go to prison for transporting anything higher than a two, you know.”

The ghost of a laugh passed through Lukas’ nostrils. “You really have been away too long! Come on, this is Matuzu Kingdom. A little bribery will get you everywhere,” he said. “And yeah, definitely a category four. I would have said three until I saw Raziza’s face today. I think we rescued them just in the nick of time.”

“Her name’s Rezera,” Balthazaar corrected him.

Lukas slapped a hand over his face and sighed, “Damn it, I knew I’d screw one up eventually! We Matuzans are supposed to be creative, so what’s wrong with you people? All your names sound the same! Ugh, you’re almost as bad as those hicks in the Blue Valley…”

“The only ones who struggle with it are outsiders like you,” Balthazaar reminded him with a wry smile. “Maybe you big city folk aren’t as smart as you think you are?”

Rodanga was a small place indeed. Too small for its own dragonport, so Lukas and Balthazaar hired a carriage to take them all the way to the neighboring city of Morsereg. They paid someone to take Talzihaar’s camel back to him, they paid for a flight ticket to Evik, they paid security to overlook the unconscious changeling, and Lukas gathered receipts for all of it to present to Evan.

As they boarded the massive cargo dragon’s gazebo, Balthazaar muttered, “The Captain is _not_ going to be happy about all these expenses…”

Lukas knew he was right. They were racking up debts into the hundreds now, but that was a problem for the future. “He’ll get over it,” he said. “Worst case scenario, he can just get on his knees and suck some gold out of Jelani…”

“How’s your brother doing anyway? You guys ever talk these days?” asked Balthazaar.

Lukas hesitated before answering, “I don’t know. Our relationship is tenuous at best. I’d like to have what you have with your brothers, but—” He stopped himself. Why was he talking so openly about this? He quickly shook his head and mumbled, “Nevermind. It’s none of your business anyway!”

Balthazaar sighed through his nostrils and turned towards the window. He watched the clouds pass by for hours, saw the occasional aurae or dragon fly by. All the while, he kept throwing anxious glances at the suitcase by his feet. The changeling was still sleeping inside.

The dragon touched down in Mogdir Capital just after sunset. Night and day meant little in the purple kingdom, for the forest canopy was so vast and thick that the city was stuck in perpetual darkness. Glowing candleroot orbs glittered everywhere, lighting the busy roads. But the mercenaries hadn’t made it to the streets yet. They stepped out of the dragon’s gazebo and straight into a security terminal.

Mogdir Kingdom took security far more seriously than Matuzu Kingdom. Lukas knew it was going to take a much bigger bribe to get through, assuming bribery would work at all. If things went sideways, they’d either have to abandon the mission and flee or write their crew and hope they’d bail them out of jail. Their next move would be painful no matter what happened.

Worse yet, it seemed the changeling had awakened. Lukas and Balthazaar heard muffled snarls and looked at one another, then down at the suitcase in Balthazaar’s hand. “Uh oh,” muttered Balthazaar. “What do we do?”

Lukas searched through his satchel, but he was all out of sleeping medicine. “Give me all the gold you have and just act casual. Let me do the talking,” he said. Balthazaar dug into his pockets and handed over every coin he could find to his crewman. They pooled their money together, but after all their expenses so far, the bribe was reduced to a pittance.

They stepped up to the gate, where two elven officers in crisp, purple suits were standing. “Place your bags down and step aside, please,” said one of them, patting a long, wooden table before him. The mercenaries reluctantly obeyed. They spread their arms and allowed a second officer to pat them down for weapons as the first examined their luggage.

The first officer reached for Lukas’ satchel first, but a noise from the suitcase pulled his attention. He touched it and snapped, “What’s in here? You know you need a permit to transport animals into this kingdom, right?”

Clearing his throat, Lukas shook a sack of coins out of his sleeve and dangled it in the air, making it jingle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” he said. “We’re just here for a business trip. We’re very wealthy, very important men, you see.”

The officer narrowed his eyes at them. “Tell me what’s in the bag,” he demanded.

Lukas dropped the sack on the floor. Coins spilled out and rolled everywhere. “Whoops! I’ve got a bad back, can you boys pick those up for me? In fact, go ahead and keep them for your trouble.”

The officers weren’t having it. One of them pulled the wand off his belt and pointed it at them. “Don’t move,” he said, then they watched as the first officer carefully opened the suitcase. Sweat was beading on the mercenaries’ brows, dripping all the way down their faces. Balthazaar’s expensive new shirt was starting to resemble his old one.

The officer recoiled in horror when he saw a little human girl bound and gagged in the suitcase. “What the—?” he cried. He eyeballed her with suspicion, then fished a crystal lens on a string out of his pocket. When he peered through it, he saw through the monster’s magical guise, revealing the soulless, black eyes of a monster.

“Just as I thought! Code C, boys! We’ve got another one!” He turned back to the mercenaries. “You fellows should have said something sooner! Let me guess, you’re on your way to Allmother’s temple?”

Balthazaar and Lukas glanced at eachother, brows arching high. They were afraid to speak, afraid to incriminate themselves. It seemed they didn’t have to, for the officer slammed the suitcase shut and handed it back to them. He addressed his fellow officer when he said, “Go fetch these guys a ticket to Eadhilde at once. And pick up those coins before someone slips on them!”

“So, uh, are we in trouble, or…?” queried Balthazaar. Lukas drove his elbow into the man’s side to shut him up.

The officer admitted, “I _should_ report you for attempted bribery. But I’ll be honest, it’s the end of my shift and I can’t be arsed with ironblood nonsense today. I can tell you two aren’t familiar with our great kingdom, so I’ll offer you a word of advice…”

He pointed to the suitcase. “…Take that wretched thing straight to Eadhilde. Don’t stop, don’t dally, and whatever you do, do _not_ let it get loose! Allmother’s temple rests on a big cliff by the sea. Trust me, you can’t miss it.”

The other officer returned with a ticket in his hands. The first took it from him, then passed it to the mercenaries and told them, “Here. This will get you a carriage ride all the way to Eadhilde and back. Now make haste, I mean it!”

The mercenaries thanked him and swiftly exited the terminal. They didn’t get their coins back, but with the free ticket, they wouldn’t need them anyway. This would be much easier than hitchhiking their way up north like they planned.

They boarded a centaur-drawn carriage and breathed a sigh of relief. “That could have gone _so_ much worse…” said Lukas.

“Mogdir Kingdom must have a real problem with changelings,” mentioned Balthazaar.

Lukas replied, “Of course it does, Allmother forges them in the city just north of here! She must have had at least one of her agents skulking around Rodanga. Probably has them all over the world.”

“Think there’s any in the Hollow?”

Lukas thought about it for a moment. “Nah,” he decided. “If there was, they would’ve snatched up Itchy’s kids by now. Shit, they probably would’ve taken Isaac too. I read that some of these agents are so uptight, they’ll take your kids away just for sending them to bed without dinner.”

“And the kingdom just puts up with this? Why don’t they arrest her? This can’t be legal!” asked Balthazaar, jaw slacked in disbelief. Everything coming out of Lukas’ mouth was news to him.

Lukas told him flippantly, “Oh, I’m sure they don’t _like_ it. But what can they do? Rumor has it, Allmother’s agents have wormed their way into the highest branches of Mogdiri government. She has so much power and influence, I don’t think the kingdom can touch her at this point.”

Balthazaar squinted at him. “You sure know a lot about this woman,” he said, tone tinged with suspicion.

“What? Can’t a man be educated about things? Or does that scare podunk, country boys like yourself?”

“Just saying, it’s a little weird, knowing all these details about a kidnapper and all…You know how serial killers always have tons of books about other serial killers?”

“Oh, shut up!” groaned Lukas, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared out the window for a long moment, watching the dark forest pass by. They could hear the muffled snarls of the changeling in the silence. Finally, Lukas decided to open up to his crewmen, if only a little.

He said, “Look…my childhood was a nightmare, okay?”

Balthazaar whipped his head towards him, eyebrows quirked. “How? Weren’t you a prince? You grew up in a palace!”

“Yeah, so I wore leather shoes and slept on silk sheets! That hardly matters when your mother’s a violent psychopath, does it?” Lukas snapped back.

He forced himself to calm his tone and explained, “Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s just that when I was a kid, I prayed every night for Allmother to take me away. I heard all the stories, I read all the books, I did everything I could to summon her agents to me…” A doleful look crossed his face. “…but they never came. Nobody ever came to save me from my mother, I just had to survive her grinding jaws until she decided to spit me out.”

Lukas realized he shouldn’t have spoken up in the first place, for now the words were flowing and he could not stop them. He gestured with his hands, the intensity rising in his voice as he continued, “What you had with your family back there? I didn’t get to have that! Ever! There was no love in my house! Nobody ever hugged eachother, nobody smiled or laughed or said ‘I love you’! That was all fiction, as far as I was concerned.”

He leaned his burning face against the cold window. “Once When I was kid, there was this big streak of kidnappings in Uekoro and all these parents got enthralled by changelings. It caused weeks of scandal and problems for my parents. During that time, I wrote a bunch of letters to Allmother and left them all over Uekoro so her agents would find them. And you know what happened? They just ignored me like everyone else.”

Balthazaar seemed to lose a little color in his face. He stared down at the suitcase by his feet, processing all these terrible things he was told. “Gods. I had no idea, Lukas,” he said quietly. “Why didn’t you just tell me all this years ago? I would have cut you a little slack! Do the others know about this?”

“No, and you better not repeat what I said to anyone!” hissed Lukas, jabbing a finger against the man’s chest. “I-I don’t know why I’m telling you this in the first place. That stupid sleeping medicine always makes me loopy…”

“It doesn’t make sense,” muttered Balthazaar. “I mean, I don’t doubt your mother was as horrible as you say she was. But Izkubaar isn’t a bad guy! I know he’s not, I grew up with the man! He would never abuse a child, so what did Allmother take his daughter for? Considering they ignored you and took Azadora, something tells me these agents of hers have their priorities mixed up!”

Lukas shrugged and told him, “Like I said, some of them are known to be really uptight. Maybe he sent her to bed without dinner? Or swatted her on the behind a little too hard? You saw that dump they lived in; maybe the agent just took her away because her parents were slobs? I’m sure we’ll be able to get this mess sorted out once we speak to Allmother.”

The hours passed on as the carriage rolled towards Eadhilde. The forest began to thin out the closer they got to the coastline, until finally, they could see a black sky full of stars twinkling above. The wind picked up and they heard the distant whisper of the sea. Eadhilde was a small, simple Mogdiri city build along the coast. Its lights were aglow in the darkness, most of its structures build of stone and others of driftwood.

Unlike Rodanga with its flat, geometric architecture, the architecture of Eadhilde was shaped more organically, following every curve in the uneven terrain. There weren’t many people out at this hour, except for drunk fae and gaians stumbling from tavern to tavern along the main street. The carriage stopped in front of an inn, and its driver stamped the mercenaries’ ticket before they parted ways.

They could already see Allmother’s temple towering high in the distance. It towered over everything else in Eadhilde, even the tallest of trees. It was a structure of natural stone jutting up from the sea. A long bridge of stone seemed to be the only way to access it, with waves crashing against its pillars far below. A giant statue of a female satyr was carved into the face of the rock. She was sitting in a reclining birthing position, and the bridge led to a tall, vulva-shaped doorway.

Balthazaar stared at the temple in awe. It was illuminated by beams of light coming somewhere from its base, giving it a holy, ethereal glow. He let out a low whistle and said, “Now _that’s_ a temple! Go big or go home, I always say! Could you imagine something that vulgar popping up in Rodanga? Ha! Folks would lose their minds!”

“Let’s just get this over with,” grumbled Lukas. The two made their way towards the bridge and Azadora’s changeling twitched and snarled in their suitcase all the while. They passed through the unique door and stepped inside the entryway of the temple. Apparently they weren’t the only ones with a changeling problem, for the room was crowded with other people of all species and nationalities.

All of these people had one thing in common, and it was their haggardness. They were tired, bruised, scratched, some of them horribly maimed by the little monsters they had come to exchange. The mercenaries looked around in horror. The room was noisy with the screeches and snarls of changelings. The creatures were tied up, shackled, blindfolded with various things stuffed in their mouths to keep them from biting, and otherwise restrained using any means possible.

Lukas approached a faunish woman. She was sitting against the wall with a baby faun lying beside her, swaddled in metal chains with a burlap sack over its head. It writhed and snarled like a rabid beast regardless.

The woman looked exhausted, battered, and for some reason, soaking wet. Lukas felt bad for disturbing her when he asked, “Excuse me, are you all waiting to see Allmother?”

“No. She is deeper in the temple,” she replied with a thick accent he couldn’t place. “Everyone in this room was denied an exchange. We are just waiting for an appeal.”

“Denied?” blurted Balthazaar. “You mean she told you ‘no’?”

The woman sighed, “Yes, she did! How could she say ‘no’ to me? I did not wrestle this little monster away from my sister and drag it all the way from Etios Nation to be told ‘no’!” Her voice escalated to a shout. She balled her fists and seethed, “Good luck to you, but do not get your hopes up!”

“You said there’s an appeal process? How long does that take?” Lukas asked.

The woman spat, “Who knows? Some of these people have been here for months! See that young man over there? He told me is on his ninth appeal, and still he has not convinced her to return his little brother! What must we do to win her favor? She will not even tell us! Allmother is a cruel and unjust divine!”

The mercenaries didn’t like what they were hearing one bit. Suddenly they weren’t feeling so confident. What if they were denied too? There was only one way to find out, so they ventured deeper into the temple in search of Allmother.

They walked down a straight corridor, passing who they could only assume were Allmother’s agents standing guard. They were posted in pairs every twenty paces or so, clad in pale armored robes and armed with everything from swords to staffs. Their eyes followed the mercenaries as they walked by, daring them to misbehave.

Eventually the hall split into three directions: left, right, and stone stairs leading up. Guards were blocking the left and right corridors, so the mercenaries ascended the stairs. They winded around and around several times before reaching the top. Here, a hulking ogress blocked a door with a long, heavy battleaxe in her hands. She was armored from head to toe in metal plates, putting the other guards to shame.

Balthazaar hesitated, gathering the courage to approach her. He opened the suitcase and took out the squirming monster, presenting it to her as he explained, “Uh, excuse me, ma’am. I’m here to exchange this changeling for Azadora Valentino. She’s five or six years old—I mean, she was, when she was taken. She must be about ten now. May we speak with Allmother?”

“You may speak,” the ogress rumbled, “but you may not shout, you may not curse, and you may not touch my mother under any circumstance, or you will be thrown into the sea.” She swung her axe towards the open window to her right. A cool breeze was passing through, and they could hear the ocean’s whisper outside.

“Huh. Guess that explains all the soggy people back there,” muttered Lukas.

“Understood,” said Balthazaar, and the ogress stepped aside to let them through.

Just as they passed, she grabbed his arm and growled, “Don’t forget: no means no.”

With that, she released him and they entered a spacious chamber, all in pale hues. It was brightly lit and the ceilings stretched high into a white abyss of light, supported by marble pillars, and the ornate tile gleamed so brilliantly beneath their feet that they could see their own reflections. Pots full of lush flowers decorated the interior, with unknown children immortalized as statues among them.

More guards in pale robes were posted along the walls, regarding the mercenaries with hard, piercing stares as they cautiously approached the throne at the back of the room. There rested a satyress with long, pearly locks. She was fair of complexion with a plump build and yellow eyes that slanted dramatically towards her nose. Her face appeared oddly goat-like, more so than most satyrs. A swaddled baby elf was feeding at her exposed breast. Otherwise she was clad in a loose, pink toga-like garment.

She met the mercenaries with a calm smile. “With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” she asked, her voice echoing off the curved walls.

Somehow, Balthazaar felt more intimidated by her than the armored ogress at the door. He told her, “Divine Allmother, my name is Balthazaar Valentino. I-I’m here on behalf of my brother and his wife, Izkubaar and Rezera Valentino. About five years ago, one of your agents took their daughter Azadora and replaced her with this.” He held up the changeling. “I know it must have been some kind of mistake. My brother is a good man and he would never hurt a child, at least not on purpose! So I’ve come to exchange this changeling for the real Azadora. Um, please?”

He offered an anxious, toothy smile as the changeling screeched muffled expletives in his hands. A massive tome lie on a table next to Allmother’s throne. She waved her hand over it, glowing with magic, and the pages appeared to turn themselves. “Let’s see…Valentino, Valentino…” she muttered, scanning the pages until she found what she was looking for.

“Ah, here we are. Azadora Valentino of Rodanga, Matuzu Kingdom. Correct?” she queried.

Balthazaar blurted, “Yes! That’s her!”

“Hm. My agent wrote quite an extensive report on her here,” she observed. “Let’s read it, shall we? It says, ‘Agent first witnessed Azadora at the age of three, at a Rodanga market with her father. She began to cry and her father punished her with a hard slap on the face, prompting investigation. Agent observed the parents’ behavior at home, where they were frequently intoxicated and arguing with one another…”

Balthazaar’s heart sank, lips pressed into a thin line as Allmother read on, “…Over a two-year period, agent witnessed over a hundred counts of physical abuse, and over a thousand counts of verbal abuse against Azadora from both her mother and father. These counts included but were not limited to: shoving her down, slamming her against the wall, dragging her by her hair, throwing bottles at her…”

Allmother’s eyes drifted away from the book and settled back on Balthazaar. “There are three more pages of this,” she warned. “Shall I go on, or is this enough for you to understand why this poor child was taken away from these people?”

Balthazaar was dumbfounded. His jaw fell slack, shaking his head in disbelief. He stammered, “No. T-there was a mistake, I’m telling you! M-my brother would never do any of those things, that’s not—”

“Agent witnessed Azadora’s father, Izkubaar Valentino, break a glass bottle over her back when she refused to pick up her toys,” Allmother read on. “Her mother, Rezera Valentino, was witnessed rubbing her daughter’s nose in her own vomit when she was sick, punishing her for making a mess on the floor. Food was withheld from Azadora for a twenty-seven hour period as punishment for breaking a picture frame…”

She closed the book with a frown. “With all due respect, Mr. Valentino, I shudder to meet anyone who would willingly return this girl to her parents. All of my field agents are fae, and fae do not tell lies. Everything they record is the whole truth, as difficult as it may be to swallow. You are far from the first pilgrim blindsided by the words in this book. I see it every day. Sometimes the people we love are simply not capable of loving others.”

Emotion made Balthazaar’s blood run hot. His face flushed red and his eyes sparkled with moisture. If looks could kill, he would have obliterated the changeling in his arms. “Allmother,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “Izkubaar is my brother. This isn’t true, it can’t be! Please, you can’t do this! This…this _thing_ is going to kill him!”

“That _thing_ is the consequences of his own actions,” the divine told him sharply. “There is no justice in this world unless we make it so. I blessed your brother with this changeling to make sure his hands stayed off innocent children forevermore. Meanwhile, I have unburdened Azadora of all memory of him and her wretched life back in Rodanga. I have been her mother since, and I always shall be unless someone proves to me that they can give her the life she deserves. Those are my conditions. So, I suggest you leave my temple and put that changeling back where it belongs.”

The mercenary’s legs trembled, threatening to give way. He was so overcome by anger and grief, he could not calm himself when he shouted, “You know what? Fine! If my brother is really a monster, then by all means, keep Azadora! There’s a special place in the afterlife for scum like him, and he can spend all eternity there for all I care! But I will not, under any circumstances, return this monster to him! I wouldn’t wish this horrid thing on my worst fucking enemy, and how dare you ask me to tarnish my soul that way!”

“Balthazaar, no!” shouted Lukas, but nothing could stop his crewman’s fury as he threw the changeling down and crushed its skull under his boot. Black sludge gushed out, splattering across the gleaming white tiles. The screeching ceased and the monster’s squirming stilled. The room was haunted by a tense, deafening silence for what felt like an eternity.

All Balthazaar could hear was his own harsh breaths. Tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision. What had he done? The horror was seeping in, along with a heavy load of regret and the realization that he just destroyed his chances of ever returning to Matuzu Kingdom. He was a wanted man now, for the heinous crime of child kidnapping. The Matuzan Guard would lock him up and throw away the key.

He jumped when he heard booming footsteps approaching. The armored ogress was storming towards him from the door, teeth gnashed with rage. She nearly crushed his arm to dust when she seized it and snarled, “What did I tell you before? Kiss the waves, you pig!”

“Daughter, wait! Please, let him go,” said Allmother. A puzzled look crossed the ogress’ face, but she did as she was told and released Balthazaar’s arm.

His gaze slowly shifted back to the divine. He did not expect her to be smiling, especially not so wide. Her eyes gleamed with genuine delight at his actions, and she said, “My, my! I must say, it’s been a long time since I saw such an act of passion! To still show such mercy to your brother, even knowing what he’s done, that is noble indeed! I’m impressed, Mr. Valentino.”

She handed the baby elf off to a guard, who scurried away with him as she descended the platform to her throne. She stopped before Balthazaar and stared deeply into his eyes for a moment. Then she drew back, seemingly satisfied by whatever she saw, and said, “Oh, yes. I agree. To tarnish such a brilliant soul would be an awful shame.”

Cupping her hand around her mouth, she called, “Azadora, sweetheart! Come to mommy, please!” Her voice boomed off the walls, echoing throughout the entire palace. Lukas and Balthazaar waited in silence, looking all around. After a moment, a young girl stepped through a child-sized door behind the throne. Sounds of laughing, frolicking children could be heard beyond it, until it closed behind her and all went silent again.

“Yes, mommy?” she queried. Balthazaar gasped at the sight of her. It was Azadora! The _real_ Azadora! Unlike the changeling, she had grown with the years, looking about nine or ten years old. She was thin and gangly, but certainly not malnourished, and her long hair was adorned with flower-shaped clips. Her simple dress was colorful and clean, contrasting with the changeling’s filthy rags, and her brown eyes were full of life.

He looked down at the gruesome mess he made on the floor, then quickly jumped in front of it to block the girl’s view. No one should lay eyes on such a terrible sight, especially a child.

Allmother kneeled, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders. She lovingly caressed her face as she told her, “My dear, sweet Azadora, I am so proud to call you my child. And as much as it pains me to do this, I know it is for the best. I love you, but you belong with your people. Your true family.”

Azadora’s brows sagged with concern. “Why are you crying, mommy?” she asked.

Allmother ignored the question and swept a hand towards Balthazaar. “This nice man here is your father, Balthazaar.”

“What?” blurted Balthazaar. “Allmother, I’m not—”

She cut him off with a stern tone of authority, stood up tall and said, “He will give you something I cannot. He will give you the life you deserve, the one that you should have had from the start. You are one of the fortunate ones, my dear. After this moment, you will not remember my face. But never forget that no matter how much time or distance parts us, I will always love you.”

She cupped the girl’s face and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her lips were glowing with magic. Azadora began to speak, but her words quickly faded and her eyelids fell closed. Her body went limp in Allmother’s arms. The divine picked her up and carried her to Balthazaar, pushing her into his arms.

Her yellow eyes sparkled with tears when she creaked, “You are worthy, Mr. Valentino. I know you will give her the life she deserves.”

Balthazaar looked down at the unconscious child in his arms, struggling not to drop her as his muscles suddenly grew weak. He felt like he may faint. “Allmother, please! I’m not her father! I’m not a father at all! I never have been! I can’t raise a child, I-I don’t even have a house!”

“It matters not how much you have. What truly matters is how much you love,” Allmother told him knowingly, forcing a little smile through her tears. “You needn’t question the intuitions of a divine, Mr. Valentino. I have been doing this since the Damijani were called ‘Boanningwad’, and no child has ever passed through this temple more than once. You will be a lovely father. Now please, take her away from this place before she awakens. It is best if she has no memory of her time here.” Her smile faded. “No child should ever have to meet me in the first place.”

Balthazaar opened his mouth to protest. Lukas quickly slapped a hand over it to silence him, paid Allmother a respectful bow, and said, “Thank you, Allmother, for your gracious mercy. We understand that we are _very fortunate_ to walk out of your domain unscathed…” He stressed the words harder as he hit Balthazaar with a glare, warning him to keep his mouth shut. “He will take care of this girl to the very best of his ability. We will take our leave now.”

That said, he grabbed Balthazaar’s sleeve and dragged him back through the door, making haste down the spiraling stairs, past the soggy crowd, and across the long bridge. Neither mercenary said a word until they stepped into a carriage bound for Mogdir Capital City and closed the doors.

Balthazaar looked down at Azadora, still unconscious in his arms, and let out a panicked scream. Lukas jumped with a start, scrambling to shush him. But his crewman wailed over him, “What am I gonna do? Oh, gods, Lukas! W-what am I gonna—I can’t take care of her! I’m an idiot! I’m a broke, drunk, fat idiot! I have no business raising a child, this is ridiculous! I can’t be expected to—”

His tirade came to a stop when Lukas suddenly slapped him across the face. “Pull it together, Balthazaar!” he barked. “When a divine orders you to do something, you have no choice but to do it! This is just like the day we found Isaac in that crazy dungeon. Do you think we _wanted_ a child? Do you think we were in any way prepared? No! We were a gaggle of homeless sellswords without a pot to piss in!”

He gave Balthazaar’s shoulders a shake and continued, “But you know what? Somehow, by the grace of the gods, we managed. And you know what else? We’re all better people for it. So here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to calm down, sober up, and protect this kid with your life. Because if you piss off Allmother and bring the wrath of _two_ divines upon us, I will personally rip that beard off your face and strangle you to death with it. Do not test me, Balthazaar Valentino.”

He released the man and settled back in his seat. Balthazaar was nearly in tears as he stared down at the new responsibility in his lap. After a long moment, he mentioned, “Feredil wanted a child all her life. I could never give her one, just like I couldn’t give her anything she deserved. I can’t raise Azadora all by myself, Lukas!”

“You won’t have to,” Lukas told him. “It takes a village, right? It took five of us to raise Isaac, and he still turned out a little screwy. But he’s not biting chunks out of us or playing with dead animals, so we must have done something right. We’ll do right by Azadora too.”

Balthazaar leaned back in his seat and let out a long, agonized groan as worries raced through his head. What if he sent her to live with Talzihaar? He was a kind and loving father, he thought. But the memory of Riza’s disability surfaced soon after, followed by the memory of Talzihaar waking up before the sun to start his fourteen-hour shifts, followed by the memory of Naima struggling to feed, teach, and raise the three daughters they had already.

No, he realized, it was not feasible. Talzihaar and Naima were struggling enough as it was. They were in no position to take on another mouth to feed, another body to clothe and shelter, and another responsibility to worry about. Izkubaar and Rezera were obviously out of the question—he wouldn’t even trust them with a dog, knowing what he knew now. If Allmother chose him, it must have been for a reason.

Balthazaar could not begin to know what the divines knew. He was just a big idiot, after all.

“Here,” said Lukas, offering him something in his palm. Balthazaar picked it up and examined it. It was a small, wooden elephant figurine.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s an elephant, moron. Come on, you’re Matuzan! You ought to know what an elephant is!” snapped Lukas, but there was no bite in it.

He was even smiling a little, so Balthazaar smiled back and replied, “Oh yeah, I’ve been away for so long I almost forgot what they looked like! Neat little trinket. What’s it for?”

Lukas tipped his head towards Azadora. “You can give it to the girl when she wakes up. By the way, did you know elephants never forget a face? They mourn their dead like we do and they always stick together. We consider them sacred back in Uekoro. If you're caught poaching one, you might as well turn the blade on yourself because the Uekoran Guard will make you wish you were never born.”

His gaze drifted out the window. He continued, “Anyway, they’re supposed to represent family. We have this tradition where married couples are gifted an elephant statue on their wedding day. They display it on their mantle, and for each kid they have, they line up a baby elephant behind it. I don’t know. I saw that thing at the market and it just…reminded me of someone special, I guess.”

Balthazaar quirked an eyebrow at the figurine. “Are you…proposing to me?” he asked.

Lukas slapped a hand over his face and barked, “Gods, Balthazaar! Seriously? I’m trying to have a _moment_ here!”

“Okay, okay, sorry! Only making sure. I just never know with you merrymen, that’s all…”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I could do a lot better than you, don’t you think?”

“I mean, you could do a lot worse too,” smiled Balthazaar.

He jumped when he heard a groan, noticing Azadora beginning to stir. “Oh no,” he gasped. “She’s waking up! What do I do?”

“Well, don’t start freaking out!” hissed Lukas. “Just act natural. Remember, you’re her father.”

The girl’s eyelids fluttered open. Her bleary eyes drifted around the interior of the carriage. She saw the dark Arcadian Forest out the window and two strange men staring down at her. She slowly sat up, taking her place in the seat between them, and queried, “Where…where are we going, daddy?”

Balthazaar looked at Lukas. He simply looked back with a shrug. “Uh…” Balthazaar creaked. He cleared his throat to strengthen his voice when he answered, “Home. We’re going home, girlie. Hey, look at this, daddy got you a present!”

He opened his hand, showing her the elephant figurine. A big smile spread across her sleepy face when she laid eyes upon it. She took it from him and said, “Oh, thank you! It’s so cute, I love it! It’s a…” Her smile suddenly faded, brows furrowing as she struggled to recall its name. “It’s a, um…I don’t know. What’s it called, daddy? I’ve never seen one before.”

Balthazaar shot her a strange look. She was a Matuzan girl, there was no way she’d never seen an elephant! Then he recalled Allmother’s words back at the temple, and he realized she had erased all of Azadora’s memories of Rodanga. She did not remember Izkubaar or Rezera, nor the terrible abuse they inflicted upon her. She did not remember her filthy old house, her uncle Talzihaar, aunt Naima, or cousins Riza, Eleza, or Alzira.

She did not even remember Allmother. All she knew from this point forward was her so-called “father”, Balthazaar. And if that was the case, he supposed he had a lot to teach her going forward.

“It’s called an elephant. They live in the Midlands, waaay over on the continent of Serkel,” he began. “You want to know something funny about elephants? They never forget a face, they mourn their dead like we do, and they always stick together…”

*

Lukas was glad to be home, even if all he had to come home to was a tent.

A week had passed and now it was time for his second meeting with Dr. Jan. He wasn’t looking forward to it. The previous one had been so harrowing, the last thing he wanted to do was dredge up ancient pains he worked so hard to bury over the years.

He picked up the crystal ball and held it for a long, contemplative moment. He glanced over at the box of tools in the corner. He’d been using that hammer to fix Evan’s house, and if it could tap down a nail, it could easily smash this crystal and leave his pain undisturbed.

But he knew deep down, like the Body of Gaia, this pain was due to rise and cause great destruction someday if it was not soothed. If he ever wanted true love in his miserable life, he had no choice but to brace himself and endure the storm, for no storm could last forever. There were clear skies waiting for him on the other side. He didn’t used to believe that, but after he’d seen the love the Valentino family had for eachother, he was willing to believe such things existed after all.

Lukas placed the orb on its stand. Taking a deep breath, he gazed into its crystal face and said, “Summon Dr. Jan…”

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed the story, and if you have any feedback, comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Lukas and Balthazaar are such an unlikely duo, but I enjoyed writing them on an adventure together. Let’s hope Balthazaar can make Feredil proud and clean up his act for good! He has a lot more responsibility on his hands now, and Drifter’s Hollow just got a little bigger. It looks like Lukas is on his way to self-improvement as well, even in the midst of all the chaos going on around him. I don’t know about you, but I’m proud of these guys. :)
> 
> New Looming Gaia stories are posted about once a month, so check back soon for more or subscribe to the series if you want to be notified as soon as they’re up!


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